Barely Spanking
by Drumboy100
Summary: Frank and Joe arrive at an undercover personal investigation assignment at Barely Spanking fetish weekend in Atlantic City. Things get personal when they immediately see someone they know…
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Frank and Joe must participate in the events of the weekend in order to effectively go undercover. This was written for a non-fetish audience, I promise; however, if you find the subject of m/f consenting adults repulsive, along with the impersonation of clergy, this would be an excellent story to skip.

Special thanks to xcherryxlipsx and Cherylann Rivers for giving me the courage to post.

Frank's POV. 12 chapters posting 2x weekly.

"Hell," Joe said under his breath. "I need to get focused, Frank. What are we doing? Let's take five minutes."

"Or two," Frank muttered, taking Joe's elbow and guiding him toward the side of the hallway. Miraculously, blessedly, no one was near them, although they could see the full cocktail hour humming energetically down the hallway. "Everyone can see us, Joe. It's only a two-day case. And you know that—"

"Dad's friend Hannibal Lector needs us to do this, and Dad is bribing us with our tuition checks in order to pay back a favor to a friend. Again." Joe rolled his eyes. "I need a cigarette."

"It's been over a year since your last one. Be strong. And, for the millionth time, his name is _Haniel_." Frank continued to scan his surroundings. "Let's go over what we know one more time while you take a deep breath."

"Don't act like I'm the only one who needs a deep breath, Frank. This is freaky stuff even by my liberal standards." Joe stopped speaking and waited while a couple got off the elevator and giggled nervously, heading to the open doors of the penthouse bar. "What is this weekend called? Spanking bare asses?"

"Barely Spanking Weekend. They use less implements than BDSM organizations, apparently. Quiz time. Who is our subject under investigation?"

"Natasha Romanov, special agent of SHIELD."

"Would you stop? Her name is—"

"I know that much at least, Elder Brother. Her name is Ana Kuznetsov, and she's here for a kinky weekend with a possible uranium transfer to an unknown terrorist organization." Joe straightened his collar, taking a step toward the open door.

Frank fell into step beside him. "Do you need to see her picture one more time?" he asked in a low voice.

Joe smiled slightly. "No thanks. I think I'll know her when I see her."

Frank knew what his brother was insinuating. Ana's case history had stated that she was forty-eight, literally twice his age, but she certainly knew how to clean herself up. A short blonde bob, small black eyes with a hint of beginning crow's feet, and a mouth twisted in a perpetual wry smile. _What does that smile hide, Ana_? Frank thought. _Are you here for business, pleasure, or both?_ She couldn't possibly have signed up for a sexy weekend in Atlantic City, New Jersey to try to form contacts for her uranium smuggling. Atlantic City had been hit hard by the recession, with only seven casinos still open from their former glory days, and even organized crime had left the city. There was now just plain ordinary crime.

Fifth Harmony was pumping on the loudspeaker as Frank and Joe entered the 18th floor of the casino/hotel. Although the weather was partly cloudy, there was still a terrific panoramic view of the boardwalk, Atlantic Ocean, and city streets. Cocktail waitresses hurried to deliver their wares, and Frank was surprised to see the room look…like a normal party. Frank estimated that there were about a hundred people in the room, with approximately the same ratio of male to female. Friends shrieked and embraced, obviously reuniting from the last Barely Spanking Weekend. The majority of the guests certainly did not fit into the young, sexy, skinny type that Frank had assumed. Decorations were sparse but classy, some clusters of helium balloons held by bowls of marbles on cocktail tables.

Frank and Joe approached the sign-in table at the entrance to the room. Frank noticed Joe's eyes following several woman in short black uniforms, and he poked his brother back to the present. "Frank Hastings and Joe Williams," Frank told the fifty-something, dark-haired woman guarding the registration table.

She leaned over a sign-in sheet simply labeled "Friday, April 20, 2018" and highlighted their names. "Welcome to cocktail hour. My name is Sister Pats. All events this weekend will either be here in the hotel penthouse bar, in the first floor casino conference center, or on the sixth floor suite level in the personal hotel rooms of partygoers. There are labels on the next table where you can write your name, plus designate yourself as a Top, Bottom, Switch, or Not Playing. If it's your first time, don't worry, many people don't play their first time. There is no play allowed during this cocktail hour, as this time is focused on building relationships first."

"Thank you," Joe said, smiling tightly at her. He motioned for Frank to come to the name tag table with him.

"What the hell did she just say?" Frank said quietly to Joe once he was sure he was out of earshot.

"Well, we can't pick 'Not Playing,' no matter how much we want to." Joe kept an eye on the fellow party-goers as he spoke. "That's no way to integrate ourselves. I'll be a Top and you can be a Bottom, so at least one of us will be able to enter every event. A Switch must be someone who likes to spank using a switch."

"Fine." Frank grabbed the corresponding color-coded name tag, writing his name on it. He and Joe weren't famous enough to have to disguise their first names as well as their last, but that was a dream of his for the future. He and Joe affixed the labels to the front of their white-collared, button-downed shirts. Fortunately, he and Joe had dressed appropriately, with the majority of the room also in business casual.

"There's an orientation going on in the far left corner," Sister Pats called, gesturing to where a small group had gathered. "It's for anyone. If you're not new to these types of events, you can still give pointers to the beginners."

Frank nodded at her in appreciation. "We're going to have to admit we're beginners," Frank said, touching Joe's shoulder to nudge him toward the orientation. "People will definitely figure it out anyway."

"Whoa—uh, maybe this weekend will have its fringe benefits after all," Joe said. Joe gestured toward a small group of women in the short black uniforms. Now that they were closer, they could see the bushy white cotton tails. The women were now adjusting headbands with ears on them. Their pinned name tags included the words "Bunny Greeter."

As the group was arranged in a circle, not a row, Frank and Joe were forced to integrate themselves into the group to be able to see. A man in his late 50s, pale skin, on the shorter side, was sitting in a chair addressing the group.

"This weekend is really more for the ladies. Every year we crowd-control the numbers of single men permitted to attend," he was saying. He saw Frank and Joe and stared at them pointedly, then looked down at their name tags and relaxed his shoulders slightly. Frank easily read the body language: he no longer considered Frank and Joe to be a threat to the ladies here. Frank was grateful but wondered why.

"I am Headmaster Cane, and those of you attending the Schoolgirls Event tomorrow will see how I got my name. A few rules of etiquette: No forcing or nagging anyone to play with you. No means no, and if a woman says 'maybe,' that also means no. She'll come find you later if she wants to play with you. Make sure you get to know the person somewhat before asking them to play, and make sure to communicate before every scene as to how much pressure the Bottom wants, whether implements will be used, and how long the scene will be."

"Anyone who wants to use safe words can use safe words." A dark-haired woman in a Bunny Greeter suit spoke up, her arms crossed. "If anyone tells you they don't use safe words, come see me immediately."

"Now a few techniques to make sure no one gets hurt." The Headmaster stood up and called to a bunny greeter standing away from the circle, chatting to a nervous-looking couple. "I need you now, Love."

"Any time, Headmaster," she responded playfully, gently breaking through the circle and heading toward his chair. She had light blonde hair instead of reddish-blonde, pigtails rather than a ponytail, and shiny purple lip gloss, but Frank instantly recognized her and felt his knees go weak from shock. He felt Joe's palm pressing hard into his low back, the only supportive gesture Joe could give without calling attention to themselves.

Headmaster Cane patted his right leg, and Nancy Drew took her cue and bent over it. She completed the awkward maneuver quickly, suavely, as if she had done it many times before. She rested her torso on his other leg and positioned her hands on the floor for balance.

"You have to strike at the appropriate angle, right where it's most padded, or you could really do injury," Headmaster Cane explained calmly to a circle of about fifteen people who were also behaving as if this were a perfectly normal and sane activity to be demonstrating. He pushed her bunny tail up to her low back and out of the way. "See the angle of my palm, the curve I'm aiming for? Resting my other hand on Nancy's back, but not putting my weight on it? Similarly, if you're using an implement, you always have to be prepared that your Bottom might move positions in anticipation. Red, can you grab my pointer from the bag?"

This Frank could not tolerate. He mentally turned to go, but found that his feet were made of lead. He found himself entranced against his will as the pointer repeatedly met its target with precise accuracy. Headmaster Cane was swinging his arm heavier than was necessary, in Frank's opinion. At one point Nancy grimaced from the pain, and Frank clenched his teeth and thrust his hands in his pockets in his efforts not to interfere. Blood roared past his ears, rendering the lesson useless as he heard nothing but muffled, irrelevant voices for the duration of Nancy's undeserved punishment.

Nancy leaned back, transferring her weight from the headmaster's lap back into her legs. As she stood up, straightening her skirt, her keen eyes assessed each member of the group until her gaze landed on Frank's.

Her eyes registered nothing. The detective portion of Frank's brain admired her restraint, her ability to completely assume her undercover role, but he couldn't help but wish that her eyes revealed some small portion of emotion. Regret would be preferable, but he'd settle for guilt.

To his shock, Nancy walked straight toward him as the circle disbanded. Her four-inch heels gave a natural sway to her stride, and caused her to be only an inch or two shorter than Frank and Joe when she stood before them. "New here, guys?" she said pleasantly. "I'm Nancy, one of the Bunny Greeters, and I'm here to answer any questions you might have about the weekend."

Joe's eyebrows were raised. "Seriously?" he said in a low voice. "Right here? Right now?"

"You'd prefer to ask your questions in private?" Nancy pulled on Joe's shoulder playfully, guiding them farther away from the group. The three detectives each scanned the room, quickly determining that the fellow attendees were far too interested in forming their own connections and making play dates to notice other people's conversations.

"You're two single guys, beginners, and I'm a Bunny Greeter. It would look more suspicious if we _weren't_ speaking right now," Nancy said, but kept her voice quiet. "I'm here trailing Pasha Romanov, suspected for uranium dealings. He's had private investigators on his tail for almost a year now, and I'm handing him off to someone else after this weekend."

"There's your Romanov, Joe, but your Black Widow turns out to be a man," Frank said, keeping his eyes trained on Nancy. "We're here for Ana Kuznetsov."

"At the bar, as of twenty minutes ago," Nancy said. "I'm not surprised. I figured they would send someone to cover her too. Come on, don't look at her at the same time, guys. It looks like our cases connect, so if your cover is blown, so is mine. Did you guys bother to do any research at all about this weekend?"

"Well, it's not exactly like that—" Joe began.

"Uh-huh." Nancy nodded toward Frank and Joe's name tags. "I went to their January event so I'd already be on the inside by the time this weekend came. A Top is someone who only _does_ the spanking, a Bottom is someone who only wants to _be_ spanked, and a Switch is someone who's comfortable with either role. You guys know full well that you don't look related, so by one of you being labeled a Top and the other labeled a Bottom, you guys look like you came… _together_."

"Oh, God." A blush crept up Joe's neck and headed toward his ears. "So you think we should be Switches, Nancy, to make sure we have…every opportunity to follow our subjects?"

"Sounds like a logical deduction to me." Nancy was already scanning the room for her subject. Frank followed her eyes and saw a man in his mid-50s, balding, a little extra in the middle. She nodded at Frank and Joe to confirm his identity.

"We've got to get different name tags, Joe, before we do any more damage to our identities," Frank began, but Joe held up a hand.

"Correction: _I_ will go make us different name tags." Joe looked pointedly from Frank to Nancy and back to Frank. "I know there's history between you two, but we need to put it on the back burner until Sunday afternoon, which is in what, forty-five hours? Say whatever you need to say to each other to be able to make it until then. After the case you two can have whatever kum-ba-ya you need." Joe ripped off his name tag, then Frank's, and began shredding them into pieces as he headed back toward the sign-in table.

Frank turned toward Nancy. Her eyes were still expressionless, which triggered a flame of annoyance. "I can't believe you let that man do that to you, Nancy," he said in disgust. "Whether for a case or not."

Nancy's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Last I checked this is my body, not yours, and this is a voluntary weekend for consenting adults. Except for the two of you, I suspect, who were yet again ordered to do a case in exchange for your parents paying your tuition. When we last met you were just about to graduate college, so by now you must be finishing up with graduate school. Am I right?"

Frank said nothing at first, even though he knew that his hesitation was confirmation. "There's nothing wrong with wanting letters after my name."

Nancy nodded as if confirming something to herself. Then she sighed, her shoulders lowering. "Who are we kidding. The odds are very low that our subjects are actually going to make a move on another uranium deal this weekend. All we have to do is keep an eye on them and get along. Try to relax, Frank, and don't judge me again, please? As I recall, you like to try a few new positions yourself."

Frank's eyes sparked with fresh anger, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I would appreciate it if you would speak of our marriage night with a little more respect," he said darkly, turning to leave.

Nancy's expression registered surprise, uncertainty, but by the time she opened her mouth to speak Frank was already gone.

Joe hurried to catch up as Frank swiftly exited the cocktail reception. Frank took the proffered new name tag and slapped it onto his upper chest while he walked. "We're staying only until Haniel can find a replacement," he said to Joe, arriving quickly at the elevator and pressing the button for the seventh floor. They were by themselves in the hallway. "I am too emotionally involved to be able to participate in this case."

Joe lifted his hands palms-up in a helpless gesture. "What am I supposed to say to that, Frank? You've spent over two years now making sure we're never assigned to cases with Nancy, but we work in the same network that she does—it was bound to happen eventually, and it's going to happen again. I don't mean to downgrade your relationship with Nancy, but…someday, can't you begin to think of her as a business associate rather than your ex-wife?"

Frank shook his head, his mouth tight. "The thing is, Joe, Nancy and I never quite got divorced."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited! I am amazed by how consistently supportive this fandom is._

Excerpt from "Secrets of the Nile," A Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys Super Mystery, published 1995 by Simon & Schuster Inc.

"What are you talking about, reassignment?" Haniel's irritation came through loud and clear via speakerphone. They were back in Frank and Joe's hotel room, number 703. Joe stood silently against the wall, hands crossed in front of him.

Frank took a moment to gather his thoughts. "My ex-wife is here," he said finally. "It's complicated, and it will take me longer than two days to even process that fact and adjust to it. I can't stay on this case."

The brothers heard Haniel blow out his breath, loudly and slowly. "I've got two of them myself, Frank, but I wouldn't quit a case because of them. Personal and professional are two different things. I had no idea, I'm only assigned to keep an eye on Ana. Anyway, I can't find a replacement for you this late. If you really can't follow through, then Joe will have to stay by himself."

Joe's expression slackened at this news, and his shoulders sagged. He paused briefly, then nodded. "All right," he said. "Frank can leave and I'll go it alone."

"No—" Frank's conscience tugged at him, and he raked a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I'll partner with Nancy. I'll be fine." Joe put a hand on Frank's shoulder, and Frank looked up at him, conflicted.

"The thing is, guys…"

"What?" Frank said sharply. "Is there something about this case you're not telling us, Haniel?"

"Just one thing. You can see why I only told your father the very basics of this case. Ana has…certain tastes. There's a reason why the two of you were assigned over other agents."

Joe's forehead wrinkled. "Are you saying we're…her type?"

"She likes… _new_ boys. It's why I told you guys not to do any research on the 'spanko' lifestyle. And she likes to have more than one man in each scene, yes. She likes her men younger, and one of you is a dark, scholarly type and the other looks like a blonde surfer dude. She'll never know you're related."

"So she might want to do a scene with us _together_?" Joe yelped. He looked at Frank in horror and took two steps back, dropping his hand to his side.

Haniel spoke quickly, with a mixture of pleading and discomfort. "Together as in side by side, you guys aren't going to be spanking each other. Hey, you gentlemen can make your own clinical decision as to which technique you want to use to keep an eye on her. But whatever you do, you've got to stay close. We've been trailing Ana for almost two years now and other agents have tapped her phone, hacked into her Facebook, you name it…all the circumstantial evidence for these uranium sales points to her, but there is absolutely no technology or paper trail."

"You sent us on this case almost completely uninformed, but this inspiring pep talk is really making me want to stay here and get spanked with my brother by our subject," Frank said dryly.

Haniel's voice sounded more desperate. "Well…at least it's called Barely Spanking for a reason—there's no sex."

"I'll stay because I won't abandon my _partner_ , not because I have any problem abandoning _you_. Don't expect to hear from us very frequently this weekend, or at all. Or ever." Frank hung up and threw the phone across the room onto Joe's bed, where it bounced once and stayed still.

Joe was leaning over the dresser, examining himself closely in the mirror. "My name is Joe. My father has unwittingly sold my body as a fetish slave."

"No, you are a _gigolo_. You are charging for your services, your ass for your Master's in Criminal Justice."

Joe whirled around to glare at Frank. "All right, that's just about enough sass from you, and you're in the same position I am. Literally. And since you just pissed me off, that gives me license to tear you a new one for not telling me that you and Nancy are still married. How can you keep secrets from me, Frank? I've never kept anything from you, not ever."

Frank sighed. He leaned back in his bed, putting his hands behind his head. "I'm sorry, Joe. I couldn't bear to speak of it at all, and it was enough of a burden for you to carry the secret that we got married in the first place." He swallowed, shaking his head.

Joe let a moment of silence pass, then came and sat on his brother's bed. "I know it all started with that damn case on the Nile, when you had to pretend to be married to Nancy and I had to pretend to be married to Bess. I should have insisted that we switch partners. There was too much of an attraction between you and Nancy. You two were blind to it until it was too late."

"How could you have known how rotten it would all turn out?" Frank's eyes glazed over. He remembered those weeks of truly losing himself in his undercover identity as Nancy's husband, the sultry, agonizing desert nights that were too humid for sleep, but not too humid to prevent images of rolling over into her arms.

Frank remembered the last night in Egypt, after the case was solved, when his and Nancy's lips had met in a heart-stopping moment.

 _The kiss seemed to go on forever. When Nancy finally pulled away, she whispered, "Frank…that is, what I mean is…the case is over. We don't have to pretend to be a couple anymore."_

" _I wasn't pretending," Frank said slowly, taking her hands in his. "Were you?"_

 _Nancy took a deep breath. "No," she said finally. "I wasn't pretending, either." Then she met his gaze. "We have to face reality, though. This relationship can't go anywhere."_

 _Frank continued to stare at her for a long moment. "You're right, Nancy."_

 _Nancy smiled at him. "You and I are friends—really great friends—and nothing more."_

" _Sounds good to me," Frank told her._

But what was supposed to be a kiss goodbye had turned out to be a kiss hello. Nancy had snuggled up to him on the long plane ride from Cairo back to Bayport.

 _This is killing me,_ Nancy had whispered to him on the airplane. _I guess I got too heavily invested in my undercover role. I've…really enjoyed pretending to be married to you, Frank. I liked our roles as Mr. and Mrs. Addison._

His heart had tightened in anticipation. Those were exactly the words he'd been longing to hear from her. _Believe me, Nancy, I feel the same._

She'd played with the blanket, twisting it in her hands, uncharacteristically shy. _I wish it could go on forever._

He'd tipped her chin so she'd seen how serious he was. _There's no reason it can't, Nancy._

Her eyes had widened. He saw doubt flicker across her face, and he could imagine the thoughts flying through her brain like they had his: they were twenty-two now, he was almost finished college, they were adults in every sense of the word. He'd reassured her that he was due to inherit funds from his maternal grandparents upon his marriage in order to help them get started. They could really make this happen.

Once Bess was safely on the bus to River Heights and Joe was in an Uber back to the dorm, Frank and Nancy had gone on a laughing epic quest to find the most available Justice of the Peace. They were married late afternoon on March 29, 2016, and a few hours later they were celebrating in a motel room with sloppy fettuccine alfredo and Lambrusco red wine. In a fog of jet lag and mild intoxication, they'd somehow found the energy to consummate their marriage several times, giving expression to several weeks of built-up tension and several years of mutual attraction.

Frank had slept long and deeply. When he'd woken in the middle of the following afternoon, Nancy was gone.

Frank pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself back to the present. He swung his legs onto the floor, standing up and moving to the mirror. "My tantrum is over," he informed his brother, straightening his shirt. "I'll stay for our case. You know ninety-five percent of the story, Joe. I woke up by myself the day after, all of her belongings were gone, that damn note on the table that just said 'I'm so sorry, Frank. I can't do this.' I waited for my wife to call me…she never did, and a couple of months later I got a heart-warming stack of divorce papers, mailed certified. After poisoning myself with several doses of Scotch, I was able to sign on all the dotted lines that her lawyer had so considerately highlighted and sticky-noted for me in case I was too incompetent to figure out where to sign. I got through that entire miserable stack and turned over the last page, which is where we arrive at my lie of omission to you."

Joe approached Frank and stood behind him at the mirror, saying nothing.

"I drunkenly looked for my line on the last page, but that sheet was different from the rest." Satisfied that his appearance concealed his emotions, Frank turned around to his brother. "It was a page from a recent medical report. Nancy's name was highlighted, along with the line"—Frank made a gesture indicating air quotes—"'Pregnancy Test: Negative.'"

Joe's mouth dropped open.

"And that little bit of information, summing up our night together, used in the context of _tying up legal loose ends,_ like it was a concluding document from one of our cases—" Frank shook his head. "I decided I was no longer interested in helping Nancy pretend that our time together had never happened, that a stack of papers could be used like an eraser. I was so drunk that I actually used a few of the pages to…take care of some personal hygiene needs…which was uncomfortable, but gave a physical expression to how I felt."

A smile tugged at the corners of Joe's mouth at that last piece of information. "Damn, Frank," he said with a trace of admiration. "So that's the last you've heard from her?"

"Except via additional snail mail. The next piece of mail I got from her was in January 2017—she'd completed her end of our joint married tax returns, and I completed my portion and mailed it back to her. She bought life insurance and I had to sign to waive my right as beneficiary, and when I bought my apartment, I had to mail the forms to her for signature. I called Chet, who was finishing up his pre-law degree in Wisconsin at the time, and he said Nancy had probably hired a cheap-ass lawyer who didn't want to get involved in a contested divorce case. Especially since he'd have to research laws from both Connecticut and Illinois. She could have easily stuck her lawyer father on me, but was probably too ashamed to tell him about her _mistake_." The bitterness crept into Frank's voice during the last sentence.

Joe assessed Frank. "You've made a few assumptions while telling this story, assumptions that might well not be true. And I'll just say one more time that you could have taken the initiative and called her. You and Mom were always the strict Roman Catholics in the family. Therefore I'm assuming that the day you married Nancy was the only night you've ever…?"

Frank nodded.

"We're talking about this after the case, Frank," Joe said with authority, moving toward the door. "You can't stay in limbo like this. No wonder you haven't been on a date in years. And who knows if Nancy has similarly behaved—"

"We cannot find out," Frank interrupted. "I don't want to leave you alone on an undercover assignment this strange, and that mystery must remain unsolved."

"Agreed." Joe tilted his head. "You sure you're ready for whatever the night has to offer?"

"Not at all." Frank opened the door and held it open for Joe. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for the continued reviews, favorites, and follows! Each one encourages me greatly._

Frank and Joe followed the signs for the casino level conference center, and entered the Spanking Circus on the ground floor. It looked like a health fair with sellers sitting at folding tables, except the products they were selling were designed to inflict pain, not healing. A tall man in his 30s was asking questions of a petite woman in her 20s, comparing various floggers, and in answer she had him bend over as she demonstrated the type of sting that would result from proper technique of each implement. A woman toward the back did not successfully throw enough beanbags into the mouth of the beanbag toss, and was gently bent over the table for punishment at the hand of the game operator in plain sight of the entire room. And, yet again, somehow, groups of friends stood chatting as if all of this were perfectly normal.

Joe flicked Frank's arm. "Look at those guys," he said, grinning.

Frank followed Joe's line of vision and saw two security guards that were obviously hired by the casino, not the event. They stood with their arms folded, feet hip distance apart, and facial expressions that were deliberately blank. Frank had to smile as well.

"Imagine what the thought bubble would look like above their heads," Joe said. "'What did we do wrong in our lives that we ended up here? How do we make sure no one gets hurt when everyone who walked through the door came here precisely for that purpose?' You know, now that play time has actually started, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. These partiers don't take themselves too seriously."

"Want to spin the Wheel of Misfortune, Blondie?" a female voice called to Joe. Frank looked at Joe uncertainly, trying to brainstorm a way to help him bow out gracefully, but Joe was already walking toward the wheel. He spun it without even checking to see what the categories were, and Frank held his breath until the pointer stopped on Nine Spanks With Paddle. Joe bent over and pressed his palms onto the table, grinning impudently at the young woman as she selected the implement. Frank quickly turned away before the image was forever burned onto his retinas.

He almost walked right into Nancy. She was now dressed conservatively in a white V-neck sweater, a knee-length black skirt, and flats. Just like an innocent schoolgirl, which Frank realized must be the look that most of the men here were hoping to see. He and Nancy paused, assessing one another, and Frank felt a low, throbbing undercurrent of sadness. It had been so much easier to be angry.

The tall, thin man from the booth, clutching his newly purchased flogger, openly checked out Nancy even while she stood with Frank. "Want to play later on, Nancy, help me break in this cat-o-nine-tails? Maybe at 11:00, right when the carnival is over?"

Frank stared at him.

Nancy smiled demurely. "Sure, Steve. In the headmaster's room, we'll find a corner." She waved to him and motioned to Frank. "Come on, let's have a cigarette."

Frank followed her outside a side door onto a small porch, which was abandoned in the frigid temperatures. Both of them were non-smokers. Nancy immediately shivered from the cold. "Don't even say it, Frank. Etiquette is different here. There are no exclusive couples except for the people with the 'not playing' name tags. I picked a public place for safety. And I did you a favor so you're welcome."

"Thank you." Frank forced down the impulse to help her get warm, instead leaning against the railing and glancing at her sideways. "I'll bite. What favor?"

"There was a play session between cocktail hour and this Spanking Circus. It was in Ana's hotel room. While she was busy with a couple of guys in the corner, I pretended that something dropped out of my purse and stuck a bug under her bed." Nancy pulled a small device out of her skirt pocket, only a few inches long, and placed it in Frank's hand. The tips of her fingers brushed against Frank's palm, their first physical contact since their marriage night, and it sent a hot flush up Frank's arm. "That's the corresponding listening device, so you and Joe can hang out in your bedroom tonight and listen if you don't want to join in the fun. The real party is on the suite level, the sixth floor, where private spankings go on literally all night. I know from the summer retreat that Ana likes to stay in her room and host after the events are over."

Frank's shoulders felt lighter. This weekend assignment might have just become terrifically easier. He put the device in his pocket. "Thanks, Nancy," he said in relief. "Really…I appreciate it. And I don't deserve it. I won't be a menace to you this weekend, I promise."

An expression passed across Nancy's features that Frank couldn't read. "You're welcome. I have to get back in there and find Pasha, find a way to bug his room. In the meantime, Ana is hosting a private tent inside the circus right now. You…you do have a bug with you, correct?"

"Always." Frank was grateful to be able to report on the first thing he'd done correctly on this case so far.

"Good. She's hosting a Spanking Tarot Card Reading. I suggest that you and Joe go in there together. She'll be in a better mood if you do, first of all, but one of you will have to distract her while the other plants the bug under her tarot card table. If she's working on any uranium deals, that closed-off tent would be a perfect place. Good luck." Nancy opened the door and quickly disappeared back into the circus.

"This note will self-destruct," Frank muttered under his breath, as her abrupt instructions and departure had reminded him of Inspector Gadget reruns from his youth. He entered and tried to force Nancy from his mind, who was most likely busy with more propositions by other men, and instead made a beeline for the wincing young blonde with his hands on his hind quarters.

"My goodness, these harpies can swing," Joe muttered as Frank approached. "To think I used to be afraid of Aunt Gertrude's wooden spoon."

"You have a run in your pants now, Don Juan," Frank informed him.

But Joe was already scanning the booths for additional opportunities. "What should we do next? I guess that Spanking Booth replaces the typical Kissing Booth?"

"Sorry, bro, but it's back to work for you." Frank leaned in and explained their assignment, and they got in the line for the Tarot Card Reading. The line was far too short, in Frank's opinion, as all too soon they were suddenly in Ana's lair.

She sat in a folding chair on one side of the table, her expression even more alluring and cunning than it had been in her dossier. Her legs were crossed, revealing just her knees below her skirt, which was somehow more provocative than some miniskirts that Frank had seen. One heel tapped rhythmically against a leg of the folding table, which was adorned only with a short tablecloth, a decorative crystal ball with a metal dragon wrapped around it, and a stack of tarot cards.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Ana said in her thick Russian accent. She gestured toward two folding chairs on the opposite side of the table. Without preamble, she dealt the cards in a Celtic cross spread. The shape of the cards reminded Frank of a Scrabble board.

She made a guttural noise. "Are either of you going through relationship trouble now?"

"Yes," Joe said, decisively but without elaborating.

Ana nodded, hairspray keeping her bob firmly in place. "The two of Pentacles in this position means that you are juggling some decisions right now."

"Mmm," Joe said.

"The King of Cups in this position means that you have the potential to be dominant, mature, decisive men again, as you have been in the past."

"That's good," Frank said lamely.

"But at the end of your path is the Fool. You have made some bad decisions in the recent past, and you must truly repent these decisions before you can become strong men again." She narrowed her eyes at Frank and Joe in turn. "I can help you repent, gentlemen."

Frank suddenly doubted if Ana was a certified tarot card reader and if the cards had been shuffled.

"Thank you for this opportunity," Joe said with a glint in his eye. He stood up.

Ana responded to his vibe, gesturing behind her. "Select your implement. A riding crop, I think?"

Joe walked next to Ana to peer into the golf bag-looking supply, briefly blocking Frank from Ana's view, and Frank took his cue to slip the tiny metal bug from his pocket into his mouth. He forced his mouth not to fall open when he saw the size of the riding crop Joe had selected.

"A good choice," Ana said approvingly. "Over the table, please, side by side."

Frank followed Joe's lead, completely unable to look Joe in the eye, heart pounding arrhythmically. He rested his weight on his elbows, his palms clasped together in front of him on the table. Without warning, a flame of dragon breath branded itself across his ass.

" _Mmmm_!" Frank desperately tried to silence his expression of pain, but the tiny metal device still fell from his mouth onto the table, muffled only by the tablecloth. He turned his head to the side and pressed his cheek into the table to hide the bug from Ana.

Frank sagged with relief when he heard Ana's footsteps move to Joe. He heard a swish and a vicious snap, and Joe yelled like he had when their canoe had almost gone over a waterfall when they were twelve.

Ana obviously preferred this louder sound effect because Joe's second, third, and fourth stripes followed in quick succession. Joe's yelps quickly graduated from tenor to soprano. Frank risked pivoting his head slightly to look at Ana, who was intensely focused on his brother.

"Almost finished, love," Ana purred to Joe, and Frank knew this was his last chance. Ignoring the cries of mercy coming from the grown man next to him, Frank raised his right hand, rubbed his eye, grabbed the bug from under his cheek, and applied firm pressure when sticking it under the table.

And just in time, because Frank soon felt two mild taps that he could barely feel through his jeans. Sympathy, pity taps.

"Come back again, gentlemen." Ana smiled and opened the curtain, giving the entire conference center a view of Frank and Joe in an undignified position. "I think your future will be much brighter indeed," she said, expression beaming at Joe as he limped past her.

"Need a seat, sir?" A woman selling various types of soothing salve grinned wickedly at Joe, gesturing to a chair next to her.

"I'd rather stand, thank you." As if by mutual consent, Frank and Joe headed out of the room and toward the elevators, Frank slowing his pace significantly to compensate for Joe's pain.

"Damn those women," Joe hissed once they were alone on the elevator. "What, do they do a hundred push-ups a day just to prepare for these things? Please tell me you planted the bug at least?"

"Firmly on the far right side of the table, as far up as my shoulder was."

"Well, you owe me _big_ time. I'm taking a scalding hot shower, and then just before 11:00 I'm going to have to be her last customer of the night to get that bug back."

Frank grinned. "I don't recall you playing all those circus games for the sake of the case."

"Yes, I'm regretting that little warm-up." Joe considered further. "Well, no, not entirely, because if you remember that tall black-haired lady on the corner—"

"This conversation is over," Frank said abruptly, breezing past Joe as soon as the elevator door opened on the seventh floor.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Everyone who reviewed chapter one is still reviewing every chapter consistently—I am a blessed writer, and you guys are the best._

Frank stood fully dressed in front of the mirror the next morning, inspecting his shaving job. He'd hoped that Nancy would have come to him the previous night. He'd texted her and asked for a meeting. She'd never responded. She couldn't use the case as an excuse; obviously, if her boss had thought Pasha was important enough for twenty-four hour surveillance, he would have given Nancy a partner or two. She had to sleep.

Joe returned to the room with a breakfast sandwich for Frank and two coffees.

"We have to go to the event this morning, Frank, and I've already signed us up," Joe said cheerfully, feigning nonchalance but exuding a strong undercurrent of excitement. "Ana and Pasha are both enrolled, they won't be in their rooms, so we have to go to keep an eye on them. And, since we're going to the morning event, policy requires us to attend the following event as well, to spoil the ladies we've just spanked."

"Too bad we have to go. Since we've obviously got no choice." Frank finished toweling off and grabbed one of Joe's forearms. Joe's hand shook slightly from caffeine. "What number cup of coffee is that?"

"Oh, uh…I wanted to go for an early run—"

"I saw you sneak out before the sun came up, Joe. Barefoot with PJs on."

Joe looked cautiously at Frank, and relaxed when he saw the mirth in Frank's eyes. "Brother, I have tasted of the fruit and it is good!" Joe exclaimed. "My glutes have had time to recover, for I now have several hours' experience as a Top. My first couple of performances were none too stellar, but by the end, the ladies were lining up waiting their turn. To go over _my_ lap!"

Frank laughed, sipping his coffee. "I'm glad you've found Nirvana, Joe, but it's also a good thing one of us was focused on the case. I just finished listening to the recording bug in Ana's room, fast forwarding the silent sections. The only exciting news is that she fell asleep at 5:00, woke up at 9:30, and she's getting ready for the event now."

"Nothing from either bug?" Joe asked in disappointment. "Did you double check?"

"Yes, I did, and still nothing, so our painful efforts at bugging her tarot card table last night—plus your double efforts to get it back—were for naught." Frank sighed and sat on the bed, putting on his shoes. "So either nothing is going on or she and Pasha find other ways to communicate. Or the two of them have a third person involved, or they're not involved with each other and each has their own minions. And I'll need seventeen showers to try to wash away those sound effects I had to listen to for hours."

"Her bedroom door didn't open while I was on the sixth floor. From what I hear, her play date schedule was booked all night so I couldn't have gotten in anyway," Joe commented.

"Too bad, I missed another audio of you and our subject," Frank said with a wink.

The brothers heard a knock and Joe opened the hotel room door.

"Faculty meeting right now, guys," Headmaster Cane said to them, tossing two vests onto Frank's bed. "It's in the conference center. The girls will be there in twenty minutes, so hurry." He left and continued down the hallway.

Frank and Joe each grabbed a red vest and buttoned them over their white shirts. Frank swallowed his sandwich in four bites and grabbed his room key. "Let's take the stairs so you can explain to me what in hay we're about to do."

Joe followed his brother into the empty stairwell. "It's conservative Catholic school, so bring your strictest attitude. About fifty girls gather for a big session, then split up for four rotating 'classes' that meet in each corner of the conference center…yeah, it's all a big fat excuse for us to find reasons to spank them when they misbehave. Then we gather again for benediction and some kind of a final punishment."

"Nice," Frank commented. The brothers exited the stairwell and walked through the casino. "And what are our roles, exactly?"

Joe smirked. "Most of us are hall monitors."

Frank rolled his eyes but grinned good-naturedly.

Joe put a hand up to stop him just outside the double doors. "Nancy and I talked a few hours ago. Men are teachers, women are the students, and Nancy pulled some strings to make sure she's in the same classes as Ana. In exchange for her trailing our subject, we need to try our best to keep an eye on Pasha for her."

"Makes sense." Frank gave Joe a hesitant look. "You and Nancy…talked."

A crease of confusion formed between Joe's eyebrows, and then cleared. "Frank," Joe drawled slowly, feigning innocence. "Do you have a question for me?"

"You better not make me ask it, Joseph."

"And you'd better not refer to me by my full name, thereby reminding me of Mom right when I need to satisfy the upturned ladies. No, Nancy did not grace my lap last night, although she might have been one of the girls waiting for hours that I didn't get to. I couldn't see the end of the line- it snaked around too many corners." Joe punched Frank's shoulder, dodged a returning punch, and entered the conference center.

Frank arrived at the cluster of about fifteen men, all ages, who were gathered at the front of the hall. "This event is for the _ladies_ , not us, and any enjoyment we get out of it is simply a side benefit," Headmaster Cane was announcing. "Women come in a variety of ages, appearances, and sizes, so bow out now if you're unwilling to try to please _any_ woman who happens to be over your lap."

There was a brief pause, and no one said anything. Frank nudged Joe, pointing to a table of plastic name badges, and they quickly filled theirs out and pinned them to their shirts.

"Good," the headmaster continued. "We have our four teachers selected, plus our four Monsignors who will be sitting in each of the four separate punishment rooms in the corners. We need volunteers for classroom aides, plus Monsignor aides who will pull the girls out of class and bring them to the Monsignors for punishment."

Frank tried to absorb this onslaught of information while another man spoke up. His Russian accent turned Frank's attention back to the case.

"And the Head Boy will be my assistant," Pasha said. He wore Monsignor vestments.

At this announcement several men quickly volunteered. Frank glanced at Joe and both brothers raised their hands as well.

"Throw your name badges in a hat and draw one," Headmaster Cane said in minor irritation, distracted. "Most of the girls are already lined up."

Frank and Joe threw their badges into the hat, and Frank was pleased but nervous when he saw his own name drawn. The rest of the men worked out who would be assigned to the rest of the roles. Frank suddenly realized that Joe was nowhere to be found.

Pasha motioned for Frank to join him along the side of the auditorium. He made a show of pinning a gaudy "Head Boy" button onto Frank's vest. "We're in Room Two behind us, so you'll be pulling the girls out of Class Two one by one to meet with me. If there are twelve girls in each class, and each class is thirty minutes, you see how we'll have to keep it moving. Two to three minutes per girl."

Frank shifted uncomfortably. "And what should my role be…when we're in the back room?"

Pasha looked at Frank sharply, as if seeing him for the first time, and he slowly released a low belly laugh. "Good God, you're a green boy who volunteered for Head Boy," he mused, shaking his head. "I'll take care of most of the girls. Just stand there and make disapproving remarks like the girls are in trouble, play along. My palm is pretty good but it can ache after a while so I'll give some girls to you when I get tired."

Frank wished he'd had Joe's foresight to get experience before now.

The double doors were opened and the conference center filled with females. One observation stuck out prominently: they were all in uniform. Short, plaid skirts were universal, and some girls had pigtails and creative knee-high stockings. Sweaters varied. Frank unexpectedly found himself wondering what kinds of panties the girls had on underneath.

All kinds, he quickly found out, as some girls immediately engaged in naughty behaviors and needed to be disciplined as soon as they came in the door. Aides passed out class rosters while Headmaster Cane dolefully read scriptures on female submission and the benefits of the rod of correction. Just before breaking up into classes, several girls had to have their skirts pinned to the back of their shirts in shame for wearing out-of-compliance panties.

Joe walked toward Frank in full priest regalia.

"Now I've seen everything," Frank said.

"Class Roster Two in this corner, ladies, those signed up for choir practice are over here," Joe called, holding his arms wide like a loving benefactor. Then, as an aside to Frank, "Sister Pats and I are holding class in this corner, which means you'll be pulling out girls from our class for private punishment. And you haven't seen anything yet."

Frank looked over to Joe's teaching partner. The woman from registration last night was now a sour-faced nun passing out choir booklets. A female Top. She wasted no time. "Father will need a volunteer."

Joe's face lit up like Christmas morning when a petite brunette shyly volunteered. He sat down and guided her over his lap, using one hand to conduct choir and the other hand to keep the beat. The young woman kicked her feet playfully when she realized that her role was to be Joe's human metronome.

Frank was beginning to worry that Joe had completely forgotten that they were on a case. Pasha tapped him on the shoulder and retreated into the side room.

Taking his cue, Frank decided to start with the woman closest to him and work his way around the classroom circle. "Monsignor needs to see you in his office," he said, so gravely that she giggled in delight. He guided her firmly by the elbow and led her into Pasha's office, feeling a bit like a pimp.

"Thank you for bringing me our most mischievous student first, Head Boy," Pasha said somberly. "I've heard a horrible report that a band of girls snuck out of our esteemed boarding school last night to go to a club and drink the Sweet Nectar of Satan. When we find out who the ringleader is, she will pay dearly. What made you suspect this woman, Head Boy?"

Frank thought quickly. "I, uhhh…I found her fake ID."

The woman giggled again, enjoying her role.

"So you find this humorous? Oh, no," Pasha said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "Come over my lap for your lesson."

And she eagerly bent over a perfect stranger's lap, squealing "ow!" at the repeated attentions of his heavy hand. Frank had never felt so awkward in his life.

And then, with one final verbal chastisement, it was over and Frank led her sternly back to class. The unusual scene repeated itself several times with the next women, and Frank had almost adjusted to this new normal by the time the class rotated.

The second round of girls replaced Joe and Sister Pats's class, and this next class was rowdier than the first. Frank saw with relief that Nancy and Ana were partnered together in it, and Nancy seemed to be keeping a careful but unobtrusive eye on her.

"Father needs a volunteer," Sister Pats announced to this new class.

Nancy raised her hand.

Frank's breath caught. Nancy certainly hadn't been shy in participating this weekend, but she had no idea what she'd just volunteered for. He turned sharply to Joe.

But Joe didn't miss a beat. "Rub my shoulders, darling," he said to her. "Everyone stand in a circle and rub the shoulders of the person in front of you to warm up for choir."

Frank gave Joe a small nod of gratitude before he felt something wet and sticky splat against his cheek. He touched his face and looked at his hand. It was a tiny wadded-up piece of the choir booklet, bathed in saliva.

"Who has done this?" Pasha demanded, appearing behind Frank. "Who has dared to shoot a spitball at our esteemed Head Boy?"

"Me. What will you do about it?" A redhead was answering Pasha's question, but her eyes were only for Frank as she saucily dared him with her eyes. Appropriately enough, her name tag read Blaze.

"Unacceptable. Since you have been offended, Head Boy, you will deliver her punishment. I will bring her to you." Pasha moved to detain the student. Joe laughed aloud and Frank shot him a murderous look. Frank retreated into the side room and in short order found a woman over his lap, skirts pulled up.

Frank swallowed the surreal feelings and lightly tapped her, afraid that he would hurt her. Blaze responding by questioning various aspects of his masculinity. Frank mentally debated with himself.

She wore Batman underpants, clearly in violation of policy. She was not a size that Cosmopolitan magazine would allow on their front page, but perhaps that offered her extra padding, and would also help him with his aim. Frank swatted harder and found that he enjoyed the sharp slapping sound his hand made. From her response, she obviously enjoyed it as well.

When Frank returned her to class, Blaze impulsively threw her arms around his neck in a quick post-scene hug before once again taking her seat. Frank grinned and felt the classic Hardy blush creep up his neck and head for his cheeks and ears. When he turned to select another student, his eyes met Nancy's.

Nancy was staring at him, eyes narrowed, the line of her jaw tight. She immediately looked away and made a futile show of focusing on the choir booklet in her lap.

Nonplussed, Frank tapped a woman sitting in front of him. She followed his prompt and grabbed her purse, hurrying to keep up as Frank took long strides back to the private room. It wasn't until Frank had closed the door behind the new student that he realized that Nancy had been jealous. A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

Pasha had finished his usual speech and the spanking was half over before Frank realized with a start that he was quite familiar with that voice. He mentally berated himself for losing sight of the case, trying to bring his focus back as Ana stood up and smoothed her skirt down, giggling familiarly with him.

"Did you roll me those cigarettes, love?" Pasha asked her. "It's the least you could do to atone for your sins. If you are the ringleader of the girls who went to the nightclub, you will be punished indeed."

"Yes, I did get you those cancer sticks, and I saved you eight dollars plus tax." Ana pulled out a lighter and a plain, small cardboard box from her purse. She dropped them into Pasha's coat pocket, which was leaning over the back of a chair. "You going to be a big boy for me this afternoon?"

"I love it when you tell me whoppers." Pasha gave her a final light swat.

Frank was on her heels as she returned to class. His adrenaline high, he approached Joe, knowing he had to think fast. The choir was in the middle of a song. "Call Pasha out here in a minute," he said to Joe in a low voice. Joe continued to sing, Blaze now over his lap to keep the beat, and spared Frank the barest of glances to confirm acknowledgement.

Frank knew exactly who needed punishment next. He approached his wife and gently closed her choir book. "You've broken the rules," he said quietly to her. "You snuck out in the middle of the night."

Nancy returned his look, sending a clear signal that she was aware of the double meaning of his words. She paused for a moment before following him.

Pasha had the opposite door open, smoking a cigarette outside on the casino's first floor porch. He turned distractedly at Frank and Nancy's entrance. "That one's trouble," he said to Frank, gesturing to Nancy. "Take care of her for me, Head Boy." He took two more quick puffs.

Frank and Nancy looked at each other, him more discomfited than her. He sat down and she climbed over him. She wore white regulation panties and lay still, silent, submissive. _She's beautiful from every angle,_ Frank thought. The last time Frank had seen Nancy in a state of undress had been over two years ago, with the intent of spending the rest of his life with her, and now she lay over his lap at a kinky weekend with her subject casually looking on. He hesitated, raising a hand.

The threesome suddenly heard shrieks coming from the other side of the door. The door opened abruptly, and Joe stuck his head in, priestly garb dragging on the floor. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Monsignor, but we've got a mutiny going on out here," Joe said in disgust, holding two women by their elbows. "I can't hold class. This is intolerable. We need to make an example out of these two in front of the other girls."

Pasha cursed under his breath and snuffed out his cigarette in the sand in the outside ash tray, taking the cigarette with him when leaving to quell the riot.

Frank gratefully and gently helped Nancy off his lap. "Ana gave Pasha a pack of rolled cigarettes before she left just now," he explained to her as he moved to Pasha's coat to examine them. "It just seemed weird."

Nancy joined him and inspected the lighter, returning it to the coat pocket once they both determined that there was nothing out of the ordinary. Frank carefully opened the pack of cigarettes, scanning the small brown box, then tilting the cigarettes halfway out of the pack to inspect each one.

"I don't see anything unusual," Frank said slowly as he turned the cigarettes to different angles.

Nancy suddenly gripped his arm. She pushed the cigarettes back into the pack and closed the lid. "He's smoking it," she said urgently. "Frank, there's something special about the cigarette he's smoking right now. We have to stop him before he smokes the rest of it."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks to all of my faithful reviewers—I appreciate, enjoy, and learn something from every review._

"Any more insubordination and I'm sending you to the Headmaster," a Russian voice boomed on the other side of the door, and Frank and Nancy had barely enough warning to put the cigarette pack back in Pasha's coat pocket on the chair.

Pasha closed the door after him and assessed Frank and Nancy with a strange expression on his face. If Nancy's spanking was finished, Frank should have taken her back to class, not started a conversation with her in the corner. "She giving you problems, Head Boy?" Pasha asked, returning to his cigarette lighter and lighting his cigarette once again, heading outside.

Frank tried to think through a haze of desperation as he saw Pasha's cigarette burn another few millimeters down. He thoroughly agreed with Nancy's intuition that there must be a secret message written on the inside of Pasha's cigarette wrapper.

"I confessed," Nancy blurted out.

Pasha stood perfectly still, a hard look on his face. "Excuse me?"

"I confess." Nancy swallowed dramatically, but her lips lifted in a small smirk. "I'm the ringleader who got fake IDs for the other schoolgirls and snuck out to the bar last night."

Pasha's face erupted into an enthusiastic grin. "Then I need to deliver you to the headmaster immediately," he said, snuffing out his cigarette once more. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then left his cigarette in the outside ashtray and took Nancy firmly by the shoulder. He stopped in the doorway with Nancy. "The three insubordinate girls," he called sternly. "In here with Mr. Frank the Head Boy. Now." Pasha left with Nancy only when the three laughing women entered the room.

Frank thought fast after the door closed. "In the corner, all of you," he said sternly, pointing behind them. One raised her eyebrows in challenge, so he gave her a few swats to punctuate his words. "Tell me why you think you need Corner Time in addition to your punishment," he said to their backs, grabbing his phone and heading out to the porch.

He carefully unrolled the cigarette and saw a message inside carefully written in the Cyrillic alphabet, partially burned off. He took three quick pictures of it with his phone and re-rolled it the best he could. "You can give me better excuses than that," he snapped at the women when they'd stopped speaking, and he ignored the fresh round of giggles as he re-lit the cigarette to seal the tip once more.

By the time Pasha returned, Frank was administering the women's punishment all at the same time while they remained standing in the corner.

His task accomplished, Frank had time to worry what had become of Nancy. The rest of class time flew past in an angst-filled blur.

The bell for the end of the last class rang—a literal hand bell that someone in the back of the conference center shook daintily—and Joe walked towards Frank, right arm extended. "Massage my overstrained hand, bro," he wearily commanded, exhausted but happy. Frank slapped the hand, eliciting a hiss of indignation from Joe.

"Ten minute recess until Closing Benediction," Headmaster Cane announced to the room.

"Follow me," Frank said in a low voice, leading Joe into the casino hallway. They found a couch out of earshot of those around them. He showed Joe the picture of the Russian writing on the inside of the cigarette wrapper.

Joe whistled. "Excellent progress. But I'm a little rusty," he said, reaching into his robe and pulling his phone out of his shirt breast pocket. He painstakingly began entering the letters into an online translator.

"Father, please pray for my finances," a gambler said to Joe on her way to the slots.

Joe looked up. "Be blessed and prosperous, my child."

"Consecrate, please," Frank said impatiently. He frowned. "Wait, no. _Concentrate_ , please, Joe."

"Got it. And nice Freudian slip." Joe saved a picture of the webpage he was on and showed it to Frank. "And we're in luck. It appears to be two numbers, one on top of the other. The top word autocorrected to 'Thirty-nine.' The bottom word autocorrected to 'Seventy-four.' Pasha must have only burned off the last three letters of each number."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Thirty-nine and seventy-four. Wow. We are so much closer to cracking this case."

"Hey, _I'm_ supposed to be the sarcastic one. And there is also a small possibility that Pasha burned off more numbers or words. Maybe this is the beginning of a bank account number?" Joe glanced at his watch. "Time for the Closing Benediction," he said, and they headed back into the conference center.

They were already slightly late. All of the females who were not wearing standard white regulation panties were standing at the front of the room, facing backwards with their skirts pinned to their shirts. "May these ladies learn from their shame," Headmaster Cane said somberly, reading some corresponding scriptures about the importance of proper and dignified appearances for ladies. Then he put all props down on a table in front of him and raised his arms. "You have one final item of atonement before you all may go in peace."

The room began to buzz in anticipation and the headmaster rapped his podium impatiently.

"Silence! Most of you are aware that during class today, the monsignors and their assistants pulled out all those suspected in the nightclub scandal and interrogated them privately. Shamefully, there were several students here who snuck out after hours and frequented Sinful Establishments."

Several females began whispering to their neighbors, but it was the males in the room who began to look more excited.

The headmaster allowed his eyes to roam around the room, gauging and building a group reaction. "We had planned to systematically and publically question the worst behaving of you students to determine which of you was the ringleader. But I am happy to report that the ringleader has confessed!"

A general, jocular cheer went up from the assembly, the men clapping louder than the women.

A door in the back opened and Nancy walked to the front of the conference center, head held high, a mischievous gleam in her eye. The room became quiet with expectation.

"God," Frank whispered to Joe. "It feels like we're watching her being fed to the lions."

Joe squeezed Frank's shoulder in response.

Headmaster Cane leveled his severe expression at Nancy. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, young lady?"

Nancy turned her attention to a rowdy group of females in the front row. Among them Frank recognized the three ladies he'd put in the corner at the same time. "Which of you ladies are sneaking out with me again tonight?" Nancy shouted playfully, and the group laughed and cheered their encouragements.

Headmaster Cane shook his head in disappointment. He guided Nancy to a table in the center of the stage, turning her around and applying gentle pressure on her low back until she bent over, hands resting on the table. He flipped Nancy's skirt up, exposing her underwear to the room, and Frank's pulse quickened in the effort to subdue another protective impulse.

"Obviously not repentant," Headmaster Cane observed. "Let's vote on this here and now, Monsignors. Which of you believes this student deserves eight of the best, delivered in front of this assembly?"

Frank gripped the chair beneath him, a cold sweat breaking out on his face. "Joe," he managed. "How can I sit here for this?"

"Just go," Joe urged, nodding toward the door.

Frank looked wistfully at the door, then back at Nancy.

The headmaster's final statement boomed throughout the room. "And, of course, in accordance with the established policies of this esteemed institution, the Head Boy will administer the punishment."

The final anticipatory cheer rose from the crowd, and Frank froze with horror. Joe whispered forced comments and encouragements that Frank heard none of, and by the time the crowd was quieting down, Frank hadn't budged.

There would be only a few more seconds before the room was completely silent. Joe leaned in for one last argument. "Our case is not finished," he whispered authoritatively in Frank's ear. "If Nancy is willing to go through this to save innocent people from nuclear attacks, then you can damn well follow through on her wishes."

The room was now still, all eyes on Frank. Frank swallowed deliberately and stood up on shaky legs. The jocular atmosphere returned, and Frank forced himself not to punch male well-wishers as they clapped him on the back while he walked to the stage.

Headmaster Cane handed Frank a tawse, the handle leading into one strip of leather that was split into three tails. Each tail was much thicker than the flicking strings of a cat-o'-nine-tails, designed to be flexible for the swing but make a heavy impact.

Frank's arms dangled at his sides pathetically, and he mildly raised his right arm to prepare for the swing. _It's a good thing it's me,_ Frank thought. _I'll hurt her less than anyone else would have._

He didn't look at Nancy's face. He couldn't. Instead, in one fluid motion, he flicked the tawse mildly at its target.

Most of the audience members were good sports, but there were a few impatient groans, and the headmaster quickly shut down someone who had begun to boo.

"Frank," Nancy hissed.

Frank ignored her. He wasn't about to harm Nancy for the sake of strangers' sexual gratification. He attempted the same swing, but the implement wasn't designed for half-hearted attempts, and the heavy leather ended up partially striking the edge of Nancy's thigh.

A collective wince rose from the audience, and Nancy lifted a foot and stamped it down from the pain. " _Frank_ ," Nancy whispered again.

Frank finally turned and met her eyes, sending a pleading, apologetic look. Nancy shook her head slightly, signaling that he needed to continue, and swing harder.

Frank swung again, this time with enough force for the tawse to land accurately, and Nancy flinched. He vaguely heard the headmaster call out the number three. Frank's eyes widened in horror when he saw the edges of the fiery pink line that it left on Nancy's skin.

"I'm not doing this, Nancy," Frank whispered decisively, turning to leave. He stopped abruptly in shock when he heard Nancy's next words, quiet but severe.

"I deserve it, Mr. Addison."

Frank shook with emotion. Addison had been their married name in Egypt, during those three glorious weeks when they'd gone undercover as a married couple. Nancy had obviously found pretending more rewarding than the real thing, as she'd stuck around less than twenty-four hours after becoming Frank's actual wife. She'd found her marriage vows to be just as much of a game of make-believe as their last case.

Frank turned back to her. Nancy was looking down at the table once more, her hair covering her face. The tawse was now gripped comfortably in his right hand, a natural extension of his arm. He approached the table, delivering a statement for her ears only.

"Perhaps a bit, Mrs. Hardy."

The next stroke was confident, creating a _thwapping_ sound that the audience found appealing. Nancy remained stoic. Frank gave her another one, exactly the same.

Frank stepped back to allow Nancy some time to recover. The assembled crowd was background noise to Frank, a faint whining drone of bees that happened to be observing an intimate encounter between him and his wife.

He remembered impatiently tugging at Nancy's panties in a moment of passion; now they were the only thin layer of protection she had between her husband and her backside. Emotions returned to him that were worse than flashbacks. Waking up alone hadn't been the worst part. He'd grown up in a house of detectives, forever on-call, criminals dictating when they would have to immediately dispatch to a new case. No, the worst part had been the sinking feeling turning to despair, the suspicion reaching conviction, when he'd realized that she wasn't calling and wasn't coming back.

Frank aimed for a position higher up, giving the sore areas a rest. Nancy again bore it without giving a reaction. The stroke had been harder than he'd intended; he eased his grip on the tawse. With only two more strokes to go, it was time to finish this punishment, and Frank repeated his move with slightly less force.

This seventh stroke finally broke Nancy's resistance, and she let out a long breath. Frank still couldn't see her face through her dangling hair, but Nancy adjusted her position, leaning on her elbows and gripping her interlaced fingers together tightly. At this severe angle, it was even more of a submissive posture than she'd had before.

Frank looked at her and loved her, and his heart broke again from it.

Why hadn't she spoken to him yet? Why hadn't she responded to his message last night? How could they be halfway through this case without a single pathetic explanation? Or _apology_?

With his final swing, Frank gave the audience what they wanted, and stood silently as the headmaster gave a sentence of benediction.

Headmaster Cane headed toward Nancy, helping her up. She smoothed her skirt down behind her, wincing at the movement. She nodded tersely to the headmaster, assuring him that she was fine. She never turned to Frank, although from where he was standing he could see tears in the corners of her eyes. She exited out the side door.

Frank felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and mutely allowed Joe to lead him out the back of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank and Joe left the conference center only to see the crowds of party-goers gathered to wait their turn in the hotel elevators. Joe grunted in annoyance and touched Frank's elbow, nodding toward the casino. As an afterthought, Joe impatiently tugged off his priest costume and tossed it back into the conference center. Frank followed Joe through the music and beeps of the first-floor slot machines, only manned by a few early afternoon gamblers, and onto the far elevators. They waited for agonizing minutes for the elevator to stop on almost every floor before the doors opened in front of them. A few people got off.

As soon as the elevator door closed behind them and they were alone, Joe turned toward Frank. "You don't need to tell me whatever Nancy whispered to you to increase your arm strength. But you look like hell right now. Nancy will only be sore for several hours at most, so tell me that it's not going to take you longer to recover from this than it will take her."

Frank looked at his reflection in the side of the elevator. He did indeed have a haunted look to him, unkempt hair, glazed eyes, pale skin. "I just beat my wife until she cried," he said to his mirror image.

Joe swore loudly and gripped Frank's shoulders. "Don't start concocting shitty metaphors, Frank, and don't take what just happened out of context. You spanked Nancy on the most padded part of her anatomy. Nancy knew what she was signing up for this weekend. She knew what she was doing when she confessed to being the ringleader, and I'm assuming she didn't ask you to stop."

"No. She whispered, 'I deserve it, Mr. Addison.'"

Joe let go of Frank's shoulders, eyebrows raised. "Your undercover married name? Well…damn. I can see why that was effective."

The elevator dinged and its doors opened. Joe exited, and Frank was about to follow until he noticed that they were on the sixth floor. "I don't know what stunt you're pulling, Joe, but this is the party suite level and I'm going back to our room on the seventh floor," he said icily, stepping back into the elevator.

Using the element of surprise, Joe snaked his hand around Frank's wrist and tugged. Frank lost his balance and was forced to take a few steps out of the elevator to remain on his feet. "I told you this morning that whoever participates in the Schoolgirl Academy is required to participate in the Afterschool Spa," Joe said.

Frank's temper spiked. "Really, Joe? And my cover will be blown and millions of innocents will perish if I sit this one out? Well, allow me to establish a Safe Word phrase and duck out of this one. The first word starts with an 'f' and ends with a-"

"Head Boy!" Headmaster Cane was at a door halfway down the hallway on the left, gesturing to Frank.

Frank turned a steely gaze back to his brother. "I'm taking the stairs, Joe," he said, starting to turn.

Joe put an arm in front of his brother to stop him. "How about you start facing your relationship problems instead of running from them, like you've done since the day you got married?"

Frank took a step forward, glowering at Joe from his half-inch-taller height. "I appreciate that low blow, Joe. And how the hell is the Afterschool Spa going to help me face my problems?"

"Because the first twenty schoolgirls who signed up for the Spa are to be pampered by the faculty who spanked them the hardest during school." Joe tilted his head slightly, giving Frank a meaningful look. "And, as Head Boy, who did you spank the hardest during school?"

Realization dawned on Frank, and he swallowed hard to calm himself. With heavy feet, he slowly made his way down to where the headmaster held the door open for him.

"Establish safe words if needed, you two, and have a conversation about what _she_ wants," Headmaster Cane said, narrowing his eyes at Frank like they were still in school.

Frank nodded as the door slowly closed with the headmaster on the opposite side of it. Soft music was playing, Celtic instrumental. Nancy sat in chair facing away from him in a bathrobe, eyes closed, limp hair framing her face. Supplies had been gathered haphazardly beside her on the desk: body lotion, a bottle of bubble bath, a three-pronged tool for massage, a bowl and towel. One glass of champagne with a floating raspberry was within arm's reach of Nancy, along with a single piece of chocolate on a napkin, sending a clear signal that this event was for Nancy's enjoyment alone.

Which was exactly the way that Frank wanted it. His first impulse was to beg for forgiveness, but he restrained it. He wanted to make this about her needs, not his. Frank took his shoes and socks off and padded across the carpet to her. "Nancy," he said softly. "It's me."

Nancy opened her eyes and looked up at him with a neutral expression. She closed them again. "I assumed they'd assign you to me," she said. "I'm glad they did. Give me a massage, please?"

Frank paused. The content of her words had been encouraging, but the emotion behind them was difficult to read. He figured her shoulders were the most innocuous place to start. Returning to stand behind her, he rubbed in small, deep circles, taking his cues from Nancy's reactions. He put his hand on Nancy's forehead and waited until she relaxed the weight of her head into his palm. With his other hand he applied significant pressure up and down Nancy's neck. He'd heard that women hold a lot of tension there.

Eventually he returned Nancy's head to an upright position. He went into the bathroom and filled the bowl with water. He knelt before her and gingerly put one foot in, then the other. Frank massaged each foot separately, running firm fingers along each arch, grinding his palm into each heel with moderate pressure. After drying her feet with the towel, he reached for the lotion, then looked up and stopped. Silent tears were streaking down Nancy's face.

Frank waited for several seconds, then, when Nancy didn't speak, placed a hand on her knee. "Nancy," he said gently. "Put it into words, love."

Nancy opened her eyes. She lifted her hands to her face and pressed her fingertips into either bridge of her nose. "I can't believe you're kneeling in front of me washing my feet right now. I just can't believe it. After everything happened and then nothing happened."

Frank reached up and wiped the tears from her face using both thumbs. "Sweetheart, that's a good thing."

Nancy shook her head slowly, but Frank perceived that it was from disbelief, not disagreement. "Frank, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Frank said. He was finally getting the apology he'd been pining for, but now he only felt a dull ache rather than the hurt of the past two years. He followed his instincts this time, his intuition telling him to do more listening than talking.

Nancy wiped her eyes and face one more time, then sat up straighter. Frank squirted a generous amount of lotion onto his hands and rubbed them together, then applied the lotion to Nancy's feet.

"Mmmhm, where did you learn to do that," Nancy asked rhetorically, but when her eyes met his, they were serious. "I didn't get one wink of sleep the night that we eloped. Not one. You were out like a light, but I stayed up the rest of the night thinking. Overthinking."

Frank moved on to the other foot. He was committing each word to memory.

Nancy sighed. "I was thinking about my dad and Hannah, your parents and how they wanted you to rise up in the official ranks."

Frank's hands stilled.

"I got to thinking about where you live, where I live, all the traveling we do for work, how everything would change now that I was Frank Hardy's wife. And, since we hadn't used protection that night, how a baby would steamroll through all our career plans. We were only twenty-two. There I was, lying next to my new husband, a man that I'd never even been on a real date with."

Frank gazed at her with a wistful smile. "I would have rectified that the following day."

Nancy smiled and smoothed a tuft of his hair. "I know. I've often wondered if I would have made the same decision if I'd only gotten some sleep first. I'm amazed…and a little disappointed…that you didn't wake up as I was leaving. You're a heavy sleeper, for a detective."

"You tired me out." Frank took her right hand in both of his, rubbing in the last of the lotion gently with his thumbs. He heart was beating so loudly he was afraid he would miss some of her words.

"That was…a very good night…" Nancy shook her head, but wasn't ready to come back to the present yet. "I ran away. I got cold feet. I'm ashamed to say that I've always kind of run away from relationship problems."

"Funny, that's what Joe said to me twenty minutes ago," Frank said. Her words thrilled him and hurt him at the same time.

"My dad freaked out when I told him we'd gotten married," she admitted. "Nothing against you, he's always liked you, but that we had done something so impulsive. He begged me to see you, or let him call you. How did your parents react?"

Frank's jaw had dropped as she'd spoken. "You…you told your dad?"

"Didn't you tell-? Oh," Nancy said, nonplussed.

"I didn't think you wanted me to," Frank quickly explained.

"Well…I can see why…anyway, thank you for giving me what I needed this afternoon, Frank," Nancy said hurriedly. "Really. I needed that. And knowing that you were the one giving it to me."

Frank frowned, then abruptly realized what she was referring to. "No," he said decisively. He scooted to her side and put his head in her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. "No, Nance, nobody ever deserves to be hurt. You've got to forgive me for that."

"Forget about whatever psychology classes you've taken, Frank. This may not be considered acceptable to 2018 America, but somehow it was a healing experience for me. It made me feel humble enough to finally speak to you right now, to get my head out of the sand and not let another day go by without apologizing for how I treated you." Frank couldn't see her from this angle, but heard her tone suddenly lighten. "Like a naughty girl who's learned her lesson."

Frank leaned back to take her hands. "No. _I'm_ sorry for causing you any kind of pain and I will never do it again."

Nancy stuck out her lower lip and frowned like an angry toddler. "Really? I've been _that_ bad that you'll refuse to ever do it again? I'm not made of porcelain, you know."

Frank stared at her but kept silent. Their current subject of conversation was too important for him to ask just how much she was into this spanking lifestyle.

"Only…I know that I have no right to ask anything of you, but I just want to know one thing…" Nancy hesitated. She quickly grabbed the glass of champagne and guzzled it.

"What?" Frank stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Anything, Nancy."

"Well…" she put her glass down. "I can see now that you did care a great deal…so why didn't you call? Or come after me?"

Frank suddenly felt dizzy, the room losing its focus. "I thought you…wanted space…" he managed, truly understanding for the first time how pathetic that sounded. "I thought that if I persuaded you to come back to me…if I talked you into it…you'd never really be happy because it wasn't entirely your decision."

Nancy appeared uneasy. "I get what you're saying, and you have a point. I don't know what I would have done, Frank. It would have been easy to convince me to come back, but I don't know if I would have left again. But it truly never occurred to me that you would just let me go."

Frank saw now that what he'd seen as the generous thing to do also hadn't communicated to his wife that he would fight for what they had. "If I'd only known that was how you saw it," he said simply. "I would have walked through the hottest part of hell and back."

"In ten feet of snow," Nancy said, and her smile seemed warmer, more understanding, more purely _Nancy_ than it had been since the day they married.

"Uphill both ways, barefoot on broken glass," Frank finished, and kissed her forehead. Nancy wrapped her arms around his waist and Frank returned her embrace. His heart felt lighter than it had since he was a single man, with an undercurrent of regret for what might been. If only he had taken action. "I had to get intoxicated to begin signing those divorce papers," he said. "That negative pregnancy test turned me off."

Nancy sighed. "Sorry about that. I had to hire a lawyer—I couldn't have asked my dad to get involved—and he said that it was required. Part of me is glad that you didn't sign. I know you're wondering where that leaves us." Nancy reluctantly pulled out of the hug. She glanced slyly at the bottle of bubble bath. "Let's start with a bath."

Frank nodded quickly, and from her grin he could tell that his eagerness was obvious. The next several minutes passed painfully slowly as the bathtub filled, Nancy checking the water temperature continuously while Frank measured and added the liquid. Frank filled her in on the mysterious "39 74" message he'd intercepted and Joe had translated, which helped to ease the tension.

It was time to undress. Frank noticed stupidly that he was still wearing the Head Boy vest from school. He unbuttoned the vest, then his standard white collared shirt, throwing them outside the bathroom door.

He unbuckled his belt, but then stopped, unsure. He decided he would just have to come out and ask. "Nancy, do you want me to take off…" He turned her and forgot how to speak.

Nancy had waited until he was looking. Then she shrugged out of her bathrobe, letting it fall in a rippling pool around her ankles. She had nothing on beneath. So she'd had nothing beneath her bathrobe the entire time he'd been in this hotel room with her.

She had a few extra pounds in just the right places, carrying it unselfconsciously. _This is perfection,_ Frank thought.

Nancy's eyes sparkled with the identical sort of mischief she'd had when confessing to the assembly about her role as ringleader, immediately before her husband had made his displeasure known on her backside. "It's always been so easy to get you hot and bothered," she said, pivoting to get into the tub. Among other thoughts Frank was relieved to see that there was only a fading pink blush on her skin from her recent punishment.

"Yes," Frank remembered to say. "I confess, I am a man and I have a pulse."

She hissed as she slowly sat down, her skin sinking into the hot water, and the tip of her hair was immediately soaked. "Damn it," she said. "Frank, could you get me my pigtail hair ties out of my purse, next to the chair?"

Frank forgot to provide an affirmative in his haste to get out of the bathroom so he could get back in it. He couldn't immediately find the tiny elastics, as they must have sunk to the bottom of her purse, and he swore softly and tipped the contents of the purse onto the desk. He found one and was impatiently sifting for the other when a small square package caught his eye.

His vision blurred in a combination of pain and anger. His throat constricted with emotion. He'd told himself it didn't matter, and it shouldn't matter, especially after all they'd just said to one another. But it did.

He snagged it between two fingers and re-entered the bathroom, this time on the offensive.

"Question," he said.

"Anything," Nancy replied, grinning and shoving all ten fingers through her hair to pull it off her neck.

"Why the hell is a married woman walking around with this?" Frank held up the condom for her to see.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thanks to ChrisCorso, max2013, xcherryxlipsx, Guest, sm2003496, EvergreenDreamweaver, katnissta, and Cherylann Rivers for your consistent and encouraging reviews. I love how everyone interacts with the characters and has different opinions on their actions. Getting reviews is the most rewarding part of the writing process! Thank you!_

Confusion flitted across Nancy's face, evidence that Frank's sudden mood change made it hard to focus on the content of his speech. "What?" she asked dumbly.

Frank now held the square see-through package between his thumb and forefinger. "We were discussing how a condom walked into your purse when it doesn't have any legs," he repeated. He knew that he sounded like a douchebag, but at that moment his emotions had a direct and unfiltered access line to his mouth.

Nancy's expression cleared, and she at least showed him enough respect to appear uncomfortable. "It's nothing, Frank."

"Nothing?" Something inside Frank broke yet again to hear those words. What meant nothing to her meant quite a bit to him.

"Nothing," she insisted. "It's from forever ago, Frank. It's probably expired by now."

This response melted the worst of his anger, but only the edges of his hurt. "That's a tiny purse, and I'm sure if you had no intention of using it, you would have gotten rid of it by now."

Nancy leaned back into the tub, no longer defending herself. Her cheeks flamed pink. Suddenly Frank realized that her expression was one of embarrassment, not shame.

"I'm a fool," Frank said. "Enjoy your bath, Nancy."

"No, _wait_ ," Nancy said before he left the doorway. She sighed. "I'm afraid that if I told you the truth, you wouldn't even believe me."

"Try me." Frank crossed his arms. "You've never lied to me before."

"Ever since I was eighteen, I've made it a habit of packing a condom whenever I go outside of River Heights for a case. You know how fate brings us together randomly, how we work for the same network and move in the same circles." Nancy looked at Frank significantly.

Frank's breath caught.

"Frank, I never know when I'll be teaming up on a case with _you_."

Frank's world stopped for one dizzying, powerful moment. Then he reached the bathtub in two long strides. He held out both hands, which Nancy tentatively grasped. He pulled her up quickly, forcefully, and she gasped as hot water sloshed on Frank's khakis and cleanly across to the other wall of a stranger's hotel room. Goosebumps appeared on her skin from the sudden change in temperature, and Frank lifted her from the tub by the armpits like she was a child. He pressed her against the opposite bathroom wall, hoisting her naked body up to his level. Nancy helped him balance by wrapping her legs around his waist, responding to the hunger of his kisses. His arms were busy holding her up, but her arms were free to roam across his bare shoulders, chest, and downward.

Frank groaned, the position unsustainable, and Nancy grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom sink. She propped herself up to sit on it, opening her knees. Frank wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close, and her lips explored up and down his neck like she was searching for the most sensitive spot to bite. She reached between them, unbuttoning and unzipping, and shoved Frank's khakis and boxers to the floor in a neglected heap.

The condom was, ironically, forgotten.

Nancy pulled back so their eyes could meet for this moment.

Frank returned her gaze, breath short and excited. He saw in her eyes an overwhelming experience of lust, mixed with a sprinkling of tenderness. Somewhere in his brain, an impulse that wasn't connected to his reproductive system whispered to him that consummation was more satisfying when the lust/love ratio was more equal.

" _God_ ," Frank whimpered, his disappointment almost reaching the point of physical pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, moved his hands to grip the edge of the sink, and shoved himself away from her. When he opened his eyes, Nancy was even more alluring than she'd been a moment ago.

She stared at him wild-eyed, disbelieving. "Please, Frank?" And then, as her head cleared, "You started this!"

 _My wife is begging me for sex and I'm turning her down._ Frank took several moments to remind himself why he'd pulled away. "And you're finishing it," he said with difficulty. "Unless you can tell me that you're planning to live with me and share our lives together."

Nancy moaned. She leaned back against the bathroom mirror. "Can we talk about this later?"

"No."

She closed her knees, pulling them in front of her and wrapping her arms around them. "I can't answer that just yet, Frank," she said wearily. "I definitely haven't made up my mind _not_ to. We've never even been on a date."

Frank grabbed his soggy clothes from below Nancy's feet and ran from the bathroom before he changed his mind. By the bed, he put one foot in each pants leg, cursed, stepped out of them to turn the pants the right away around, then pulled them up and buttoned in record time. He grabbed a pile of clothes in the general direction of where his had been, grasped his shoes when he saw them in his peripheral vision, and held the shoes in front of his jeans zipper as he fled the room and ran up one flight of stairs. He wrestled his room key from his soaked back pocket, dropped all of the rest of his belongings in the process, swore, opened the hotel room door, kicked his belongings inside, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Joe was standing in the middle of their hotel room, admiring his reflection in the mirror. He was dressed head to toe in a costume of the Jolly Green Giant.

"Bleeding hell," Frank snapped at his brother as he made a beeline for the bathroom. He undressed again and threw his wet khakis out of the bathroom. "Hang those up for me, will you?" he called, turning the knob on the shower and stepping behind the curtain.

"Uhhhh…" Joe extended the word and trailed off, a Beavis and Butthead imitation that he hadn't done since high school. "Is that a hot or a cold shower you're taking, bruh?"

"Cold."

Joe stepped into the bathroom. "Sometimes it's tough to have the ability to make such skilled Sherlockian deductions. You come running to the shower like a bat out of hell, no shirt or shoes on, soaking wet pants—"

"I thought we had a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy?"

"Carrying Nancy's red schoolgirl sweater and bra," Joe finished. "Your red Head Boy vest is missing, so at least Nancy won't have to streak back to her room."

"Uhhhh…"

"Don't finish that thought. Just tell me if you and Nancy were able to work enough issues out that you can get back to focusing on the case?"

"This horrific case that we've accomplished nothing on. This is the longest weekend of my life." Frank turned off the shower, shivered, and grabbed a towel from the rack. "Yes, Nancy's spa time was definitely more good than bad, but nothing's been figured out. We're still in limbo."

" _You_ got to talk, too?"

"Yes."

"Good. And it's a good thing that no decisions have been made, in my opinion—you two should take it slow this time." Frank heard genuine relief in his brother's voice, which he was grateful to hear.

But then Joe spoke again. "There's a Pillsbury Doughboy outfit waiting for you on your bed."

" _What?"_ Frank stuck his head out of the shower curtain, mouth hanging open.

"Well, of course when we're the last ones to pick a costume for the Male Top Extravaganza, it's going to be slim pickings," Joe said in exasperation, as if this were the most obvious concept in the world. "You should be grateful I was able to get you that one. Would you have preferred going as the Geico lizard, or Toucan Sam, or Bob's Big Boy—"

" _I am failing to see how our participation in these events will save our country from a nuclear attack."_

Joe shrugged, unperturbed, using a green paw to swat a stray branch away from his left eye. "We never know. We obviously had to participate in the schoolgirl academy to get that clue today, yes? I took great pains to hold up the fort this afternoon, getting both myself and Pasha assigned to Ana's room, but all I got was a freshly sore ass. I couldn't search the room properly but I don't think there were any more shenanigans. Brought you a sandwich, too," Joe added, gesturing to the table. "So I brought you breakfast and lunch today. I hope you're ready to resume the role of wife in our relationship."

"Thanks, and no, I'm liking this room service. Naked."

Joe knew this was his three-second warning to turn around.

Frank toweled off and exited the bathroom. He fished for the nearest dry outfit and put in on. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, looked at the bed, and sighed. Taking the Pillsbury Doughboy costume, he stepped a reluctant foot inside.


	8. Chapter 8

Frank shook his head slowly. "Pinch me, Joe."

"I only pinch the ladies," Joe responded.

The brothers stood backstage in the crowd of other men as Headmaster Cane gave an impressively verbose introduction to the group of ladies waiting outside in the penthouse bar. Frank ignored the headmaster's promises of proper chastisement by strong arms and how much the ladies deserved it anyway, sneaking another glance at the men he was crammed into tight quarters with. He could only see a small percentage of the group. The other uniforms included a wall street executive, prison guard, an appropriately named SWAT team member, Cupid, Mario and Luigi, drill sergeant, and of course Colonel Sanders with his cat-o'-nine-tails protruding from his bucket of Kentucky fried chicken.

"Women seriously fantasize about this?" Frank asked.

Joe grinned. "Isn't it wonderful? Makes me feel better about my own fantasies. I have to warn you, though, I don't think there's a woman alive who's fantasized about the Pillsbury Doughboy or the Jolly Green Giant."

The headmaster's speech must have just finished because the door at the front of the crowd of costumed men opened wide. The men threw themselves into their roles with great fervor. Frank saw immediately that it wasn't much of an organized event. Women grabbed the men of their choice and found a chair, wall, or corner for support, receiving their spanking in the same brief amount of time it took for children to get a signature and hug from Mickey Mouse at Disneyworld. By the time Frank and Joe filed into the room from their position at the back of the crowd, the air was already filled with the sound of one hand clapping.

Frank had expected to be ignored or laughed at. He hadn't expected a crowd of woman in their sixties to be lined up waiting for him.

"That's him!" An Asian woman hobbled toward him using a cane, gleefully assessing his large mitts and extra puffy chef hat. "I want it just the way you gave it to that naughty blonde at the end of school this morning."

"Do something, Joe, save me," Frank hissed, grabbing a fistful of Joe's branches so he couldn't walk away. "I'm afraid I might _break_ them! And they look exactly like Aunt Gertrude's Saturday night card club!"

"Sorry, bro, but you're cursed with the ability to give it to the ladies just the way they want it." Joe pulled back each of Frank's fingers separately, disentangling him from the foliage. "One of us has to work the case here. It falls on me to find and spank our subject."

Frank sank into the nearest chair and tried to dissociate as the ladies fought over who got to go first. He imagined himself explaining to a jury exactly why and how he was responsible for six broken hips. He attempted to gently swat whoever was on his lap at the moment, but due to the crowd's wishes had to increase the pressure. Their tolerance of pain was at a much higher level than Frank would have predicted.

It was hot in the costume, and Frank's hand and shoulder ached by the time the last of the ladies had moved on to other men in uniform. He took off his oven mitts, blowing on his sweaty hands. A pair of black flats appeared in front of him.

Frank looked up just as Nancy bent over to straighten his chef's hat. He saw straight down her loose-fitting cardigan.

"Damn, Drew," he said wearily. "You'll kill me yet."

"Hardy," she corrected him.

That caught him off guard. Frank frowned up at her, assessing her expression.

"Is it finally my turn? Or is there a sign-up sheet?" Nancy gave a small smile.

Frank looked behind her. "We are alone. I'm all yours."

Rather than bend over Frank's lap, Nancy sat on it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her tightly. "Does that mean you've made a choice?" Frank asked.

"My hubby doesn't graduate until the end of May. I can't distract him from his studies." Nancy's feet dangled a few inches off the ground.

"That didn't stop you from distracting me just a tad an hour ago."

"Mmm, no." Nancy kissed Frank's forehead. "My body wasn't thankful that you left, Frank, but I see why you did. And it's sweet. A little awkward, though, since the occupant of that hotel room came back before I was finished with my shower."

"Yeah, believe me, I had to take a cold shower too." Frank was secretly pleased that he'd had that effect.

Nancy stared at him. "Cold? Oh, no, baby, my shower was quite hot."

Frank winced and opened his legs wider until Nancy dropped gently to the floor. "I can't give you my body without giving you my heart, Nance. You can't say things like that to me until you've made your decision…" Frank trailed off, frowning.

Nancy followed his line of vision. She looked up at him, puzzled. "I don't see what you're looking at, besides what is obviously out of the ordinary in the room."

"The Burger King." Frank nodded toward the Burger King mascot, costume completed with grinning bobble head, flimsy cardboard crown, and flowing regal red robe. He was spanking a woman with a plastic spatula.

"Like, the literal King of Burgers. The King of the Whopper. The Home of the Whopper." Frank tried to remember Pasha's exact words. "Pasha said something to Ana in school today like 'thanks for telling whoppers about me.' I remember thinking it was totally out of place. They speak English very well, but they are obviously not native English speakers, and that's slang that one kid would say to another in the 90s."

"Which means we need to get closer to His Majesty. Follow my lead." Nancy stood up.

Frank obeyed, following Nancy as she set up a position about ten feet on The Burger King's left. Nancy turned Frank's chair away from the king to reduce suspicion. Nancy climbed over Frank's lap, and Frank understood that she, from a lower vantage point, could watch their subject from an entirely inconspicuous location.

Frank paused, admiring the view on his lap. As he couldn't see their subject, the best way he could aid the case at this moment was to convincingly play his role of Top. He flipped up Nancy's skirt. She'd changed into panties with a red bull's eye on either cheek, and text that stated "It's not going to spank itself." Using the bull's eye, he delivered a well-placed smack.

"Ow!" Nancy objected.

"Sorry," Frank said. He had a flashback of the punishment he'd given her this morning, and was surprised to realize that his feelings of guilt had diminished considerably. Well….as she'd said…she wasn't made of porcelain, was she? Frank reduced his arm strength, swatting her again. Nancy's panties were a size too small, which he rather appreciated. He enjoyed the sound his hand made, the movement of her skin after each spank, the uncovered edges of her rounded backside. He tipped her up with his right knee, experimenting with different angles, and he'd just fallen into a regular rhythm when Nancy abruptly rolled off his lap.

Frank frowned, disappointed.

Nancy stood up, reaching back and rubbing her hindquarters with a small wince.

Frank rather enjoyed that as well.

"We got our lead," Nancy said in a low voice, scanning her surroundings to ensure she wasn't overheard. "Ana went over the King's lap, and when they were finished he slipped a small folded piece of paper in the back elastic of her underwear. We have to intercept—Frank? Are you…pouting?"

Frank shook his head emphatically. "No. Great work, Nancy. We need to find Joe."

Nancy stared at him silently. The corners of her mouth curved upward slightly.

Frank could feel the Hardy blush ascending up his neck and into his cheeks. There was no denying anything now. He shrugged. "Well…did you…like that? Or," he added hastily, "am I a jerk for not taking it easy on you after the tawse in school?"

Nancy held out her hands and Frank gripped them, grateful for the help standing up in his bulky costume. Nancy wrapped her hands around his thumbs. "You're a quick learn," she said. "I was a bit distracted, but you know just how much pressure to apply in just the right spots. And you keep the beat better than Joe did with those choir students this morning."

Frank couldn't prevent a goofy grin from spreading across his face.

Nancy looked to his right, her eyes widening. "Crap. Ana is walking toward her purse. You and Joe have to keep a constant eye on her and try to intercept that message in her panties."

Frank paused for a brief moment. "I'll….get right on it, ma'am."

"Strip out of your costume," Nancy ordered him, speed walking toward Joe.

Blaze hurried toward Frank, red hair even more voluminous than it had been in school. "Doughboy, hold on, I've been waiting my turn!"

Nancy turned around abruptly. "He's not playing anymore." She stared hard at the other woman until she awkwardly walked away. Frank hid a smile and quickly stepped out of his costume, throwing it on a chair.

Joe had obviously destroyed his Jolly Green Giant costume. There were leaves scattered on the floor around him, and he broke a branch on a young lady's backside as Frank and Nancy approached. "We need you right now, Joseph," Nancy said, glancing toward Ana's retreating figure.

Joe grimaced. "Only my mother calls me that, Nancy, and I really don't want to be reminded of her right now."

"But the next… _event_ …starts right now," Nancy growled at him.

The ponytail in front of Joe's left knee checked her watch, then gasped and pushed herself off Joe's lap. Joe gazed wistfully at her now clothed backside.

"Are you talking about Paddling Pinochle?" the girl asked, grabbing her purse. "The rules are so strict. If we're not on the suite level at four o'clock, we can't enter the competition. That's in two minutes!"

"Pee-knuckle?" Nancy enunciated, confused.

"It's a card game. Frank and I know it," Joe explained as he unzipped his costume.

Ana was now exiting the room, and Frank couldn't leave her unattended. He jogged to catch up to her as she waited for the elevator.

Ana openly, brazenly let her gaze trail down Frank's body, then slowly back up. "You look a bit young to know Pinochle."

Frank met her gaze without blinking, confident and flirtatious. "My aunt taught me Pinochle when I was six years old."

The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. "Pity. I was four when I learned. And I hope your partner is—?" Ana's eyes lit up with delight when she saw Joe running to catch up. She held her hand in the doorway to hold the elevator.

Joe took a moment to catch his breath. Ana raised her eyes at each of them in turn. "I hope to battle you gentlemen in the final championships, if you make it that far. And beware—cheaters get paddled most severely."


	9. Chapter 9

Frank and Joe exited the elevator on the hotel's sixth floor, the "party suite level." They stayed right beside Ana, following her into the room assigned to Paddling Pinochle.

Frank glanced at the room number, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw that it was Room 604. Ana's room was 611 and Pasha's room was 619. Their subject was not on her own turf; she couldn't take the secret note out the back of her panties and hide it somewhere in the room for later. A radio was on a low setting for background noise. Handwritten signs stating "Cheating and losing leads to paddling!" were posted throughout the room.

It was so crowded—Frank counted eighteen people in a hotel suite only slightly larger than average—that Joe didn't even have to whisper. He leaned toward Frank and said, "Nancy explained the situation to me. And we're screwed if Ana goes to the bathroom. She could read that note and flush it down the toilet."

"She'll have to go sometime—she's drinking like a fish," Frank replied, his voice strange. "You'd think she would want to be thinking clearly."

"Yeah, something is off about this case," Joe agreed. Two women bent over the bed and a man began alternating swats between them. "Well, in addition to that. Our subjects just seem so relaxed. And why this complicated note swap, why didn't Ana and Pasha just schedule a private play date to exchange those notes? Why didn't Pasha just give his note to Ana during school, at the same time she gave him a note?"

"Maybe he had to process those numbers and coordinate with his team in order to be able to give her a response," Frank said thoughtfully. "If she gave him the first note, she might be the supplier and he the receiver."

"She the top, he the bottom," Joe said, a gleam in his eye.

A moderator began passing a sign-in sheet for Paddling Pinochle, and Frank signed Joe and himself up as partners and handed it back. "We're not playing until Round 2," Frank informed Joe. "So, Joe…you are finding this kind of stuff…titillating?"

"Titillating is a very titillating word. Any activity that involves my contact with women's scantily clad backsides gets a green light in my book. It's cute, it's fun, it's funny, but I won't be making any lifestyle adjustments after this weekend." Joe raised his eyebrows. "You seem more comfortable today than you were yesterday."

"The novelty of the new, I guess. I'm still uncomfortable with the idea that we're punishing women, causing them pain, even though it's their free choice to be here. But…" Frank hesitated.

Joe nudged Frank. "Say it, bro."

"I do like it a little more with Nancy. With a woman that I know, that I have a relationship with," Frank hurried on.

"I knew what you meant."

The pinochle competition began then, two sets of partners sitting across from each other at small square card tables. The first several teams obviously did not know how to play the game, and had only signed up for the paddling of the losers. The second round began, and Frank and Joe quickly defeated their competition. Their opponents left the room with the moderators to receive their punishments in a less crowded suite.

"And yet again we'll have to thank Aunt Gertrude for her inadvertent assistance in a case, since she taught us this game," Joe said as he and Frank returned to their corner and waited for the two winners of Round 1—Ana and Blaze among them—to play each other.

"And her wooden spoon from childhood, for increasing our pain tolerance." Frank winked.

"If that's true, then I have quite a thicker skin than you do." Joe put his hand on Frank's arm. "Tell me what happened with Nancy this afternoon, leaving ALL physical details out."

"She began to cry as I was giving her the spa treatment…we talked it out…" Frank gave Joe a wry smile. "And, like you've been hammering into me for the past two years, the main reason she left was cold feet. She was indeed waiting for me to call her, to court her, to let go of my pride and tell her that our elopement was the real thing. You can say it, Joe."

"I will not say 'I told you so.' I have too much class to say 'I told you so.' And now, since I have declined to say 'I told you so,' and will continue to refuse to say 'I told you so'—"

Frank punched Joe in the arm.

"Why the dramatic entrance into our hotel room this afternoon?"

Frank decided to skip the part about the condom in Nancy's purse. "After some misunderstandings were cleared up, I…initiated. But then, when we were about to…"

"Fast forward," Joe said.

"The tiny part of my cerebral cortex that was still functioning warned me that the ultimate act of intimacy might assume reconciliation on my part, but not mean that to her. And I couldn't do it again, Joe. I couldn't do it while knowing that she might leave me again tomorrow." Frank's eye contact faltered.

Joe stepped in front of Frank, getting back in his line of vision. "So what happened? You just ran out of the room?"

"I asked for a decision…she said that she hadn't decided to _not_ reconcile…then said something about us never having even been on a real date before." Frank rolled his eyes. "As if digesting food together brings more of a bond than catching criminals together, or fighting our way out of life-threatening situations together."

"Mmm," Joe said noncommittally. "You know, Frank, it will be quite an adjustment for me to have a married partner. But it's an adjustment I'm willing to go through in order to have a _happy_ partner. A happy _brother_. This situation isn't hopeless, Frank, and don't delude yourself that it is so that you have an excuse to stick your head in the sand again. Nancy wants you to fight for this? Then fight for it."

Frank thought, and not for the first time, how wise and caring Joe could be when the situation called for it.

Frank had no chance to respond, as it was now their turn to play the other winners from Round 2. A woman on the other team exaggeratedly peeked at Frank's cards, and the game was halted as she received five paddles for cheating. Frank had no idea who was winning until he and Joe were congratulated, and he exhaled in relief. He had been entirely distracted during the game and fortunately could play on autopilot.

Frank suddenly realized how quiet it had gotten. The moderators gestured for Frank and Joe to have a seat. Only three spectators remained in the room to watch the championship. Frank forced all thoughts of Nancy out of his head as the cards were dealt. Ana sat on his left, Joe across from him, Blaze on his right.

Ana took another sip of wine, somehow appearing tipsy and focused at the same time. Joe openly stared at her, his eyes roaming over her body, and she stared right back. Frank assessed that Ana probably loved Pinochle and spanking about equally. She was taking this card game very seriously. He and Joe promptly lost the first two hands.

Frank had just picked up his third hand when he felt something crawl up his leg. He dropped his cards, startled, and Blaze laughed. She gave him a come-hither glance, flipping her hair over her shoulder, which only forced Frank's stress level up. Her flirtations reminded him that winning this game of Pinochle was worthless when it came to retrieving that note from the elastic of Ana's panties. He had no plan in mind. Frank prided himself on research, but Joe had a much stronger set of ingratiating social skills.

Frank's card hand was terrible. No runs, no four of a kind, no jack-of-diamonds-queen-of-spades, only one marriage for melt without an ace to go with his strong suit.

"I bid thirty," Ana announced, and lay down a run in clubs. "So sixteen melt, including the nine, and I also have four aces—oh…no…I counted wrong. Not four aces, but my partner and I will still make thirty."

"So where's the fourth ace?" Joe asked. There was a hardness in his voice and a spark in his eyes.

Ana's brief moment of confusion quickly turned to defiance. "I miscounted! What are you saying?"

"You heard me. I am wondering where the fourth ace is so we can make sure you are not"—Joe leaned toward her—"cheating."

Ana's lips parted slightly. She glanced at the posters on the wall, the warnings about paddlings for cheaters. "I am not cheating." Her voice was calm, almost flat, as she gazed warily to see what Joe would do next.

Joe stood up slowly. He held out his hand. "Then you won't mind submitting to a brief inspection."

Joe and Ana met each other's gazes fiercely, both appearing to have forgotten that they weren't alone in the room. Frank's breath caught. This was the moment that would decide the case.

Ana slowly put her hand into Joe's and stood up.

"Let's see where that ace could be." Without letting go of Ana's hand, Joe stepped back and slowly looked her up and down, a muscle tightening in his jaw.

"Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots came on the radio. A bright ray of the setting sun bathed one half of Ana's face, giving her complexion a rich glow.

Joe inspected first one sleeve, then the other, exaggerating the examination and taking his time with it. Ana kept her facial expression neutral, but never took her eyes off him.

Joe slid his hand up to Ana's bicep, holding it lightly while he walked in a circle around her. He stopped when he was directly behind her. Standing very close to her, a few strands of her bob wafting against his cheek, his eyes briefly flickered downward. "The ace doesn't appear to be here, either."

Ana's expression was now smug but pleased. Joe had been inspecting her cleavage.

Frank found himself wanting to look away, but couldn't. Ana and Joe had chemistry between them, and this was an obviously erotic interaction. The room was in stasis.

"So it looks like you're almost home free. Just a quick pat down and you're finished." Joe kept his position behind Ana and started by gently tracing her face, trailing her neck with his fingertips. He applied slightly more pressure to her shoulders, and then, instead of a pat down, he never took his hands off her.

He ran his hands down her back, fingers spread, slowly tracing her spine with his thumbs in a massaging motion. Ana's eyes fluttered closed and her head fell slightly back. Joe could almost span her waist with his two hands, and then he smoothed his hands over her ass, intimately following the curve of her muscles.

Joe spent a few more seconds than were strictly necessary assessing this part of Ana's body; then, without warning, his right hand darted under her skirt and emerged with the note. He opened it and read it before anyone registered what had just happened.

"How dare you!" Ana raged, pivoting and snatching the note out of his hand.

"You did _not_ ask permission first," one of the moderators said with a hard edge to her voice. "Ana had no chance to establish a safe word for that scene."

Joe ignored the moderator. "Not an ace, but I wish it had been," he growled, gripping Ana by both elbows. "That note tells me that you have a playdate right after the dance tonight. Cancel that date and come to my room, and you know you'll have a better time."

For a moment Ana appeared so livid that Frank wondered if she would strike Joe; then, after a couple of breaths, Ana swallowed and took a step back. She looked at the note, paused, looked at Joe, and ripped up the note into miniscule pieces. She stepped over to the trash can and sprinkled the confetti inside.

"All right, loverboy, you're _on_ ," she purred in Joe's general direction. "I will meet with you instead after the dance. In _my_ room. And I will expect you to make good on that promise and make up for this."

"You won't regret it, baby." Joe's eyes flashed warily to the two moderators, who had finally begun to relax.

Ana put her hands on her hips. "No ace, am I right? Have I passed your inspection?"

Joe appeared appropriately sulky. "You have."

"So you falsely accused me of cheating?"

Joe bent over the card table before answering. "It looks that way."

The two moderators took their time punishing Joe, evidently still irritated by Joe's violation of the rules, alternating swings so their arms would not tire. Frank pitied his brother for the first time that weekend. Joe looked to be in significant pain by the end.

And they lost the card game miserably, which meant that Frank had to assume a position next to Joe as punishment for losing. Joe's eyes were squeezed together so tightly that Frank almost reached out to press his hand. Almost.

"Oh, my god," Joe muttered after the event as he limped painfully down the hallway next to Frank. "That last part was not fun, I'll admit that. And I did not appreciate that one of those moderators was a man."

Frank could think of nothing at all to say.

"Joe!" Ana ran down the hall and took Joe to the side. Frank saw Joe look at his watch. Ana gave him a peck on the cheek and walked away in the other direction.

Joe's limp miraculously improved by fifty percent as he returned to Frank. "Looks like life is worth living again," Joe said with excitement as they got on the elevator.

"Would you please tell all? Now? Great job in there, by the way." Now that the danger was over, Frank's curiosity and eagerness were returning. Frank had never enjoyed the adrenaline rushes quite as much as Joe did.

"I'm not telling it twice, so we've got to find Nancy." Joe sent her a quick text, then pressed the button for the casino floor after she responded.

Nancy was scowling at a slot machine when they found her. "You guys are walking like you're ninety years old, just so you know. Pasha was at the same slot machine for ninety minutes," she grouched. "Now he just walked to the bar over there to start drinking with the guys for who knows how long. You guys were out having all the fun while I've been bored out of my skull here."

Joe filled her in on his brazen seduction technique, clearly marinating in Nancy's jealousy of the risks he'd been taking while she'd had to sit here. He pulled out his phone and typed quickly. "And this is all that the note said."

 _23:47_

The three detectives exchanged expressions that were a mixture of anticipation and disappointment. Joe deleted it and put his phone back in his pocket.

"What the hell? And the fact that she cancelled the appointment so quickly? It's got to be a time, right, military time? I hate to say this, but was it really just a playdate?" Nancy asked one question right after another.

"Well, of course we'll be watching our subjects at 11:47 tonight, but we probably would have been doing that anyway." Joe shrugged. "Questions to ponder over. Later, not now."

"Nobody's going to overhear us right here, Joe," Frank said.

"Ana told me that at six o'clock, there is a Females Only event on the suite level. As in, female tops, female bottoms. Only two men are allowed, in order to deliver girls to their Tops and work security. Ana is attending, and she pulled some strings and got me assigned as one of those men." Joe stared pointedly at Nancy, then Frank. "I _must_ work this event in order to keep an eye on our subject. For the sake of the case. Our country's safety hangs in the balance. I must."

Frank crossed his arms. "I see."

Joe checked his watch. "Which gives you two…oh, crap, it only gives you twenty minutes."

Frank sighed. "For what? My ass is a bit world-weary right now."

Joe looked toward Pasha. "Subject obviously drinking and not going anywhere." Joe looked ten feet from Pasha's bar stool to a restaurant sign. "Capriccio's Fine Dining. Looks crowded at the bar, almost as if a subject under investigation would be totally oblivious to two innocent young people keeping an eye on him during dinner. But you'll want to hurry, I can only wait here and watch Pasha for twenty minutes while you two go and get changed for your date."

Nancy and Frank stared at him, slowly comprehending. "We're working a case here," Nancy said numbly.

"A dead-end case, unless we take time to figure out what those intercepted messages mean. Hurry up, will you?" Joe raised his hand as if to give Frank a swat, and Frank yelped and jumped out of the way.

And then Frank turned to look tentatively at Nancy. "Well," she said slowly. "Joe's right, I guess. Let's get moving and stop burning daylight."

A relieved smile broke out on Frank's face.

"Now eighteen minutes," Joe called to the two of them. As soon as Nancy was out of sight on the elevator, Frank broke into a run for the stairs.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: As always, thank you to all my reviewers, especially those handful that review after every chapter. Each and every review makes me happy and makes me think, and I look forward to thanking each of you properly after the final two chapters are posted next week!

"Damn," Joe said.

Frank grinned. "I was kind of hoping the _lady_ would say that."

Nancy was unable to speak for a moment, her eyes wide and jaw slack. She recovered, standing up straighter and shaking her head. "You…look nice, I'll say that. I guess I just feel a little underdressed."

Nancy had run a brush through her hair, applied lip gloss, and changed into a dressier skirt and shirt. Frank's hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and he was dressed in a formal three-piece suit. Joe wrinkled his nose at the onslaught of English Leather cologne.

Frank shrugged. "I never know when I'll have to impersonate an FBI agent."

Nancy smiled. "How romantic, a man has never said that to me before. What's behind your back?"

Frank gave her a small plastic bag. "Sorry, the gift shop sucks ass and I was in a hurry. Pretend it's a carnation for the prom."

Nancy looked inside the bag and clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Joe leaned over and peeked. Inside was a small can of extra spicy peanuts with Mr. Peanut leaning seductively on his cane. The caption read, "Can you handle my spicy hot nuts?"

Joe nodded his approval. "A very appropriate gift for a budding relationship," he declared. He turned to Nancy. "So does this finally meet your criteria for an _official, formal_ first date?"

Nancy whirled toward Frank, her cheeks reddening. "How much did you tell him about this afternoon?" she hissed.

"Don't worry, only the good parts." Joe winked at her. "I must be gone, I'm already late. We have one hour before the next event," he called as he shuffled as quickly as he could toward the elevator.

Frank turned toward Nancy. "I didn't tell him the parts about…well…" he said lamely. He certainly hadn't wanted Joe on this date with them, but he already missed the social buffer that Joe's presence naturally provided.

Nancy's expression had softened, her eyes twinkling. Frank followed her cues and began to relax. He held out his elbow to her and she took it, hand on his arm as they entered Capriccio's.

The hostess guided them toward a small table at the back. Not the most romantic spot, but they would still have a decent view of Pasha at the bar. Frank held Nancy's chair for her, and she frowned uncertainly.

"What is it?" Frank asked, on his guard again. Nancy gave a small shake of her head and paused. She used a fast motion to try to sit down, but grimaced and immediately stood back up.

Frank immediately understood. "Excuse me, miss?" he called to their hostess's retreating form.

She warily turned back, approaching him once more.

"Could we have a booth instead, please?" Frank motioned toward a row of available cushioned booths with a view of the boardwalk.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Saturday night is the busiest time for us. Our booths are reserved for our Seven Star card holders only."

"I'm sorry, but we'll need an accommodation," Frank said without missing a beat. He leaned toward her. "My wife can't sit on wooden chairs right now due to the activities we've been engaging in all afternoon."

Nancy's mouth dropped open.

The hostess took a step back. "I'm so sorry, sir," she managed. "Company policy."

"Well, then we will need cushions for our seats. We'll settle for hotel pillows." Frank flashed his sweetest smile.

The hostess gawked at him for a moment longer, then silently moved their two menus from the table to a booth and hurried back to the restaurant entrance.

The couple took their new seats. "Oh my _god_ ," Nancy said, then began giggling. "I would have expected that from Joe, but not from you."

"I learned from the best," Frank said.

"This is all your fault anyway, Frank. I can't sit down because of you." Nancy winked at him.

Again Frank felt blood rush to his neck and cheeks. He was surprised that he enjoyed the knowledge that she would spend the rest of the night with a reminder of what they'd done. As long as she was fine with it, which she obviously was. He reached over to take her hand at the exact time that she picked up her menu. She hadn't noticed his hand, and he quickly retracted it.

Outside their window, a few men pushed rolling chairs of tourists down the boardwalk. It was chilly for April, and not many people lingered outside. Frank and Nancy could see Steel Pier jutting out over the ocean, its variety of amusement park rides open even in this misty weather. They couldn't see the Atlantic Ocean due to the height of the man-made sand dunes.

Frank opened his menu and blanched. Nancy didn't notice.

"I am so glad our hostess reminded me that it's Saturday night," Nancy mused, scanning the options. "Pasta night. I will be breaking every last one of my healthy rules."

A few minutes later the waitress arrived. Nancy ordered Pasta Carbonara with cream sauce and a baked potato. "Oh, and a bottle of Lambrusco," Nancy added. She glanced at her subject at the bar. Pasha was laughing with the other men, leaning sideways on his bar stool.

"French Onion soup," Frank ordered, and hurriedly gave the menus back to the waitress.

"And for your entrée, sir?"

"As my entrée, please. A large," Frank clarified lamely.

The waitress raised her eyebrows and left. Nancy appeared confused. "Oh…I can't believe I ordered all that food," she said uncertainly. "It's just…you got all dressed up…I thought we were going all out."

"We _are_ ," Frank replied quickly. He winced at the whine in his voice. "I want you to eat whatever you want to, Nancy. I'm just not very hungry."

Frank's stomach growled.

"I'm an idiot," Nancy said, shaking her head. She checked her watch. "Why are you acting so weird? How can we keep going from having great moments to having terrible moments? Either you want to be on this date or not."

"I do," Frank insisted. He reached for her hand but she pulled away. "This is the realest date I've ever been on. Wow, what a stupid choice of words."

Nancy focused fierce eyes on him. "What's going on? Tell me."

Frank sighed. He began to trace the folds of his napkin with his left index finger. "This was a rough month because of spring break," he admitted. "I had to buy round trip plane tickets to go home from graduate school. I got here yesterday with thirty dollars in cash, fifteen dollars now because of those overpriced peanuts I got you, and I'd rather embarrass myself with a bowl of soup than an over limit credit card at the end of the meal."

Nancy's forehead creased in confusion. "But why not just use your dad's—" She stopped mid-sentence.

"My dad's what?"

Now Nancy was also distracted by the unique embroidery on the restaurant napkin.

"Are you talking about using my dad's credit card?" Frank's tone of voice had not changed, but Nancy still did not look up. "That credit card is used for case expenses only. Whenever Joe and I are assigned a case through our dad, he gives us that credit card and forwards the expenses to the client after the case is solved. How do you bill your clients?"

Nancy glanced up at him, then looked back down at the table. "They pay for estimated expenses upfront and I refund whatever I don't spend," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Frank. I made some crappy deductions that your lifestyle is more…privileged than it is."

"I _do_ lead a privileged life. My parents pay for my tuition as long as I do cases when needed, which is far more support than most students get, but that doesn't cover my apartment, car, food, books…" Frank trailed off. It would not help his goal of reconciliation if he became defensive.

"Which means that I'm getting a paycheck after this case and not you." It was Nancy's turn to sigh when Frank did not respond.

The wine arrived then. The waitress poured them each a glass and lit the candles, as the sun had almost completely sunk. Nancy took a nervous sip. Frank thought that she had never looked more beautiful.

Nancy shrugged after the waitress left. "I have never taken one college course, Frank. And here you are, twenty-four and about to get your Master's. You'll be rising up the ranks and I'll have no option but freelance the rest of my life."

Frank frowned. "Does that bother you? If you aren't fulfilled, we'll figure out a plan to increase your options. I'm kind of enjoying freelance before I spend the rest of my life in a bureaucratic, political world. I have career goals, but if we can't stand the red tape, Joe and I might open our own practice."

"Really?" Nancy looked puzzled. "But…and no offense here, Frank, but you didn't do any research before coming on this case. So it seemed to me like…"

"Like this case was beneath me." Frank rested his hand on Nancy's forearm, stroking it gently with his thumb. She didn't pull away this time. "You know me better than that, Nancy. I'm not capable of skimping on the research before a case. Say the word and I can list three hundred facts about uranium, the process of how it is refined into weapons-grade quality, high speed centrifuges, nuclear reactors, the obscenely thorough method our government uses to track it…I did plenty of research about this case. Haniel did not allow us to do any research on this weekend or the 'spanko' _lifestyle_ because Ana has a strong preference for inexperienced young men."

Nancy took another generous gulp of wine. "It's all coming together now. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Frank. A detective should know better." She glanced toward her subject and, seeing Pasha unchanged, attempted and failed to meet Frank's eyes. "I've always been happy being my own boss, even with the lower pay rate. You'll be high up in government agencies soon, and your wife would be expected to…what? Your mom has a law degree and she still finds time to host all these dinners for your dad and his cronies…and she makes it looks so easy, like all she has to do is sprinkle fairy dust and the food appears. I can barely work a _microwave_. I never get more dressed up than how you see me right now. And if someone pisses me off, there is a good chance that I will do something that embarrasses you."

Frank felt a rush of emotion: love for her, hope for their relationship, regret at the time they had lost over such silly misunderstandings. He wrinkled his nose. "Ewww, you think I want to marry my mom."

Nancy laughed, but the underlying somber mood was still there.

Frank tilted her chin to make eye contact. "Our generation is different than our parents'. All of that shit that you just mentioned means nothing to me. Right now, at this moment exactly, I would be the proudest man in here to stand up and announce to the room that you are my wife. And now I would only like you to answer one question. When you left me two years ago, were you running away from me, or were you running away from a role you didn't want?"

Nancy's anxious expression cleared, replaced with surprise. "Oh," she said. "I was running away from a role."

Frank leaned forward and clasped her two hands between his. "Then there is hope for us," he said with a tender look. He glanced over her shoulder and saw their food coming. "But for now we can go back to enjoying our first date. I'm afraid if we continue discussing these heavy subjects, we will be hovering dangerously close to second date territory."

Nancy gave him an intimate smile, her eyes communicating a mutual understanding. Then she gasped when she saw the size of her dinner. She and Frank agreed to pay the five dollar plate sharing fee and there was still plenty for both of them. Nancy closed her eyes, thoroughly enjoying her spaghetti, and Frank thoroughly enjoyed watching her enjoy it. The sun had now completely set.

Nancy put down her fork and stared out the window with a thoughtful expression. Frank gazed at her, attempting to memorize every inch of her face. Nancy suddenly startled back to the present and looked at Frank guiltily.

"And that is the last time you will look chagrined on our date," Frank said, a gentle smile on his face. "Thinking about the case?"

"Maybe a little," Nancy said.

"Good. This is how a date between detectives should always be spent." Frank patted the spot next to him on his booth. "Sit next to me and we'll both be facing toward Pasha. We need to sit side by side to review our clues together."

Nancy grabbed a pen from her purse and obeyed. Frank immediately closed the distance between them in the booth, his thigh touching hers, his arm snug around her waist. Nancy leaned into his embrace, and Frank let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. _Maybe Joe's got something there,_ Frank thought. Joe had always spoken of the benefits of taking an active role in a relationship. Frank had pushed himself way beyond his comfort zone tonight in pursuing Nancy, and it was paying off.

"Okay. To review." Nancy moved Frank's empty plate, turned over his paper placemat, and ripped off a corner that was hopelessly saturated with grease. Frank watched as she began to write.

First clue: Ana to Pasha in cigarette. Note reads:

 **39 (Cyrillic alphabet)**

 **74 (Cyrillic Alphabet)**

Pasha tells a clue about "whoppers," signaling Ana to look for The Burger King.

Second clue: The Burger King inserts in Ana's elastic

 **23:47**

"Well, the first thing that I wonder is why they wrote out the first note in their native language and just used numbers for the second note," Frank said. "And Joe was wondering why all this note passing, why they didn't just exchange their notes at the same time, why they didn't schedule a private playdate."

Nancy stared at the placemat in silence for several seconds. "Two numbers and a time. Written in military time. Why? A meeting that either isn't very important or Ana was never planning on attending, since she promised Joe a playdate…or she could be planning on standing up Joe after the dance tonight. I feel like…like we need to find the right punctuation to fit these clues together."

"Punctuation?" Frank asked.

"I had an English teacher give this example, and I've remembered it ever since." Nancy wrote on the opposite site of the placemat.

 **A woman without her man is nothing.**

"I'd have to be a fool to say anything in response to that," Frank said.

Nancy grinned up at him. She wrote again.

 **A woman; without her, man is nothing.**

"Now _that_ punctuation makes sense," Nancy said. "What punctuation makes sense between the first two numbers, and the second note? If it's even a time? Did they write the first note in Russian just so no one would understand it if it were intercepted, and if so, did they add an unneeded colon in the second clue just so no one would understand it if it were intercepted?"

Frank and Nancy flinched, startled at a sound to their right. They both relaxed as they realized it was a heavy rain. The lights on the boardwalk created a hazy glow around the few visitors now scrambling to enter the casino.

Frank frowned thoughtfully, watching them. "We've forgotten where we are," he said slowly.

"You're on to something," Nancy said.

Frank turned to her. "We are in Atlantic City. On the coastline of the Atlantic Ocean. A recessed, has-been city that couldn't keep up. A city with no major harbor, no shipping yard, a water level so low that it's impossible for large ships to dock here. Uranium is insanely dense, making it so heavy it's all but impossible to move it without machinery. There is no feasible area where a uranium transfer could take place around here besides the open seas." Frank pulled out his phone. "Put those two numbers from the first note side by side for me, please, babe, top number first. I need to check an app that my dad downloaded for me when we started spending more time on _The Sleuth_ a few years ago."

"Your speedboat?" Nancy asked uncertainly. When Frank concentrated on his phone rather than responding, Nancy did as asked, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

 **39 74**

"Bingo," Frank said under his breath after a screen had loaded on his phone. "You and your English teacher are geniuses, Nancy." He took the pen from her and added one stroke.

 **39, 74**

Nancy's eyes widened. "Coordinates," she said.

"I highly suspect that the second number is actually _negative_ 74, which brings us to—" Frank wrote again.

 **(39°N, 74°W)**

"Those coordinates just happen to be thirty or forty miles southeast of here," Frank said. "Due east from Wildwood or Stone Harbor, in line with 'Exit 6' on the Garden State Parkway as native New Jerseyans would say."

"Wow," Nancy said with admiration. "Nice deduction, Frank."

Frank tried to hide a small smile, her words making him proud and shy at the same time, but the moment was cut short.

"Which means I messed up," Nancy said. She gripped his thigh, staring up at him with alarm. "Those coordinates. How would Ana and Pasha ever think they would get away with a uranium transfer so close to shore? Look at the second clue, Frank."

Frank saw it now too. "Military time," he said. "They have a contact in the Coast Guard."

"I was so focused on intercepting the second clue that by the time you and Joe had left for Pinochle with Ana, there was no trace of The Burger King. I found Pasha a minute later and assumed that he'd changed out of costume. But the King wasn't Pasha."

"Ana gave the first note, the one with the coordinates," Frank said slowly. "If she's the supplier, then her boat with uranium was almost across the Atlantic and knew where it was headed. Pasha passes on those coordinates to his corrupt Coast Guard official—"

"Who checks the patrol schedule and determines that those coordinates will be unsupervised at 11:47 tonight," Nancy finished. "My boss told me before this case started that Pasha has a plane ticket out of Philadelphia for tomorrow afternoon—I'm betting that transfer is happening tonight, while he's in the area. And Ana doesn't know who the corrupt Coast Guard official is—only Pasha knows, so if Ana is caught she can't squeal. Pasha must be the head of an organization that wants that uranium. Neither Pasha nor Ana is going to be present at that uranium transfer on the open seas tonight, they're just dictating to their cronies, probably using trac cell phones they recently purchased and then threw away—their work is simple this weekend and probably done by now, which is why they're relaxed and getting wasted. The Burger King was the Coast Guard contact and I let him out of my sight!"

Frank put one hand on her shoulder and used the other to signal the waitress for their check. "Your priority at that time was helping to intercept that second note, Nancy, or we wouldn't have figured out any of this. You are the kind of detective who looks forward, not backward."

Nancy spared him a small smile, her eyes already glassy with distraction, preparing for the next move. Frank could feel her tremble from the adrenaline rush. He returned his attention to his cell phone to tell Joe to give up guard duty and meet them back at their hotel room. He put away his phone just as Nancy closed the restaurant's small black book and grabbed his hand.

"Hey!" Frank protested. "Did you just pay cash for our entire meal—"

Nancy shushed him by putting an index finger to his lips. "We don't have time for them to run a card. You're paying for our second date," she said.

Frank grinned at her then, their renewed connection adding to the high of a solved case. He allowed her to tug him out of the booth and toward the exit, passing Nancy's drunken subject on the way out.


	11. Chapter 11

The three detectives heard a weary exhalation. "You three are asking me to pull quite a lot of strings to follow up on this gut feeling. And it's past seven o'clock now. I have less than five hours to get this organized."

"Then let us help." Joe's excitement was barely contained. They were sitting on Frank's bed, on speakerphone. "I'll rent a boat. The three of us will meet your guys out there for the uranium transfer. Frank and I have plenty of experience on boats-"

"Nuh-uh, Joe," Haniel interrupted.

Joe punched a pillow, then threw it across the room. "Why _not_?" he said hotly. "We have relationships with the subjects, we would be valuable out there—"

"I said no, Joe," Haniel said firmly, and Frank put a warning hand on Joe's shoulder. While Frank's greatest high was solving the case, Joe's greatest high was apprehending the bad guys, and Nancy's was somewhere in between.

"A goal for the future, Joe," Frank said quietly. "You'll have a job in a few years where you'll stare death in the face every single day."

Joe sighed. Nancy put a hand on his knee. She looked decidedly disappointed as well.

"I need guys out on the Atlantic Ocean who have the authority to shoot firearms if needed, to make arrests and have influence in a court decision. It's simply _because_ you guys have relationships with the subjects that you're most valuable staying at the party," Haniel continued. "I need you to make Ana and Pasha so comfortable that it would never cross their minds to make a couple of phone calls and cancel this transfer tonight. And you need to be with your subjects all evening, especially making sure they are detained long enough to give officers time to arrive at the scene and make arrests."

Joe gave Frank a disappointed look. "We were afraid you would say that, so we already worked out a plan. Rest assured, they will be detained in a most unorthodox manner in Ana's hotel room."

"What-? Okay, I'm not going to ask," Haniel said. "I'll coordinate with Nancy's boss to get all the help I can get cutting the red tape to get a few boats at those coordinates, possibly a helicopter. Frank, forward me your picture of the coordinates on that cigarette wrapper. It's my ass on the line for pulling all these resources for just a hunch, but the problem is, you guys have never had a hunch that _wasn't_ correct."

The three detectives grinned at that, sitting up a little straighter. Nancy gave Frank a silent high-five. They had been amateur detectives for over six years now, and had only recently begun receiving respect through their reputations.

"Phones on tonight, all of you," Haniel said sternly. "One of you must text me every fifteen minutes from now on. Have the subjects ready for arrest after I call to give the signal that the officers are on their way. I don't need to mention that we have nothing to arrest them on right now."

"No, you don't need to mention that, so thanks for not mentioning it," Joe said.

"Joe? I hope they whipped your ass this weekend." Haniel hung up.

Joe gawked at the phone, then laughed. "Well, at least we have _some_ role tonight, and if we play it right, our part could be exciting as well." He stood up and dropped his pants.

" _Damn_ it, Joe!" Frank snapped, glancing at Nancy.

"That is so sexy," Nancy said dryly. Joe was wearing white boxers covered with pictures of ducks, a caption reading "Butt Quack."

"Get your jeans and suspenders on," Joe ordered Frank, rummaging through his duffel. "We're already late for the Country Western dance. And knock out a few of your teeth while you're at it."

Frank did as told in the clothing department, changing into jeans, sandals (he hadn't been able to convince himself to go all out with cowboy boots), and a red checkered shirt that his mother had bought him years ago. Frank switched his cell phone and room key to his new pants pocket and reminded Joe to do the same. Nancy snickered.

"What-?" Frank turned around and grimaced in embarrassment.

"So cute, you two will match for the party," Nancy teased.

"Only ladies coordinate before parties," Joe defended, but appeared mildly embarrassed as well. "This proves that we're real men, that we each only own one hillbilly shirt. Thanks, Mom."

"Let's just go," Frank said, and the three headed toward the stairs to go down one level to Nancy's room so she could change.

Frank and Nancy had to wait for Joe, holding the stairway door open for him. Joe took mincing steps toward them, grimacing.

"I don't think you did the greatest job pacing yourself today," Frank said. "How are you going to get through tonight?"

"The ladies ganged up on me at the Ladies Only event." Joe reached the top of the stairs and winced, tentatively putting one toe on the second step.

"Warm up those muscles, Joe," Nancy said with mock gusto, taking his hand and forcing him to move a bit faster down the steps.

Joe yelped and hissed, but gave her a small smile when they finally arrived at her door. "Thanks," he said. "Like ripping off a band-aide. I do feel better once I start going, which means I can't stop moving at all tonight."

There was the faintest hint of a smirk on Frank's face.

"What are you gloating about? You'll be walking like that in a minute." Nancy grabbed Frank's sleeve and pulled him stumbling into her room, leaving Joe gaping in the hallway as the door closed in his face.

Nancy turned toward Frank and pulled her shirt over her head. She stood like that in front of him for a moment longer, basking in his attention, and then unzipped her skirt and let it pool around her ankles.

Frank's breathing had changed. He took a step toward her, but Nancy put up a hand to stop him.

"I'm not _that_ kind of girl, making out in my skivvies after the first date," Nancy said playfully. She pulled a denim miniskirt off a hanger, stepping into it and zipping it up. She pivoted to sit on her dresser and slowly pulled on her cowgirl boots one at a time, somehow making it appear more erotic than when she'd taken her clothes off.

She lifted her arm and crooked one finger.

Frank was standing between her knees in record time, forcing his hands to remain low on her hips as he kissed her thoroughly. She pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around him, eagerly responding to his kiss.

Frank took that as his cue to explore, groaning as he relaxed and tensed at the same time. He kissed her some more, lightly scraping his fingernails down her back. He put one hand on her inner thigh, inching upward. Nancy leaned over to her right. Frank barely registered the clack of the hanger hitting the ground, and Nancy was holding her shirt in her hand.

"You are going to _kill_ me!" Frank half-hissed, half-whined as Nancy pulled the black tank top over her head. It read "City Lights Got Nothing' On Country Nights."

Nancy simply reached out and laid her hand flat on Frank's chest, making him shiver despite the heat. "I know fourth base is off limits, but I'm thinking second base for our second date, third base for our third date," she said, hopping to standing. She searched impatiently through her suitcase and put two more items in her purse, zipping it up and slinging it over one shoulder.

"Then you need to decide where we're going to breakfast and lunch tomorrow," Frank said, raising his hand to give her a swat as she passed. He stopped just in time, settling for a pinch as Nancy opened the door.

Just in time for Joe to see it. "I will _never_ again stand pimp guard outside a hotel room door while my brother gets action and I don't," Joe growled. "I think we're all agreed on taking the elevator, am I right? Why moving so slowly, Frankie? Let's pick up the pace, just like you guys did with me."

Joe grasped Frank's wrist and tugged him down the hallway, Frank wincing. They entered the elevator and Nancy joined them just as it closed.

Joe clapped Frank's shoulder in the universal congratulatory male signal. Joe left the hand there several seconds longer than necessary, which was a congratulation between brothers that meant something more.

The elevator dinged and opened. The three detectives made their way down the hallway and through the open doors. The party was dimly lit, "Beer for my Horses" playing at a surprisingly reasonable volume. The room was carefully decorated with checkered tablecloths and a southern buffet, pictures and collectibles as centerpieces. Screens lined one wall, cubby-style, convenient for couples (or more) who wanted to duck behind them for some private spanking play. A professional photo booth was taking unconventional free photos in the back corner. Streamers linked the chandeliers, somehow not appearing tacky.

And, of course, there were a few saddles throughout that people were already bending over.

Sister Pats waved them over to the reception table, checking their wristbands to make sure they'd paid for this event. "Remember your stickers," she said.

"How about a play date in the morning?" Joe asked her.

"Anytime, baby." She was immediately agreeable but didn't appear flattered, didn't appear overly grateful.

They headed over to the table of name badges. Nancy peered into the crowd. "I liked your play date proposition back there, Joe."

"It's like we leave our shallow culture at the door. Everybody of all sizes, ages, skin colors, whatever, partners up for a few minutes of play just for this weekend. There she is—I'm outta here." Joe slapped on his "Switch" label and headed toward the dance floor, joining the circle that included Ana.

Frank felt Nancy brush against his left side. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist, surveying the party.

"Had a nice spa date, did you?" Frank heard in a strong accent, and he turned to see Pasha's understanding smile. He had a drink in his hand, although his face wasn't as flushed as it had been when they had last seen him at the restaurant bar.

It took Frank a moment to remember what Pasha was referring to. It had been such a long day; Nancy's paddling and their subsequent spa session seemed like ages past, not just several hours ago. "It sure wasn't bad," Frank said, forcing himself to appear open and agreeable rather than tell him that it was none of his business.

"I can't help but think that I had a big part in bringing you two together," Pasha continued. "You two look like…a _couple_. Like you fit together perfectly."

Frank and Nancy looked at each other and smiled shyly. Frank was always amazed at how criminals could compartmentalize. Such a nice compliment had come from a man leading a cunning and ruthless terrorist organization.

"The rest of us men are fortunate that you didn't talk her into wearing a 'not playing' sticker." Pasha winked at Frank and turned to Nancy. "How about it, Nancy? Just a couple of minutes of private play, behind that screen over by the wall?"

Frank checked his watch. About four hours until this man would be in custody.

"Sure." Nancy turned to Frank. "Be right back, honey."

Frank watched helplessly as Nancy walked away with their subject who was about to inflict pain upon her. Once again this weekend felt like a swingers' convention.

A tuft of flamboyant red hair penetrated Frank's peripheral vision. He turned slightly to see Blaze's mischievous grin and extended arm. " _Finally_ you're alone. Dance with me, Head Boy? We'll join your brother's group so he can protect you if I try to…ignore your safe words."

Frank looked at her uncertainly. Well, if he couldn't be with Nancy, he should at least help Joe put Ana under tight surveillance. He accepted the hand and allowed himself to be led to the dance floor.

"Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" came on a few minutes after they arrived at the dance floor, and the laughing group turned into a circle. Joe, Ana, and several people Frank recognized from the rest of the weekend began jumping up and down at the opening instrumentals, only doing exaggerated dance moves during the more subdued first verse. Blaze hopped slightly toward Frank with every beat, until she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and began jumping with him for the refrain.

The short second verse began. Blaze stood directly in front of Frank, facing his same direction, now moving backward with each beat until she was rubbing against him. Frank was uncomfortable with the closeness, but did not want to start too much of a protestation scene in the final hours of finishing a case. When the singers "saddled up their horses" once more, Blaze openly turned around and grinded against Frank.

Nancy suddenly appeared next to Blaze, appearing to dance casually beside her, but Frank saw an undercurrent of determination tightening the muscles around her mouth. Another instrumental section began, and Nancy took an assertive few steps in, forcing Blaze to the side. The singer began bragging that he was a thorough-bred, Nancy again inching in toward Frank from a diagonal level, wrapping her arms around his waist just as the cowboys screamed, "And we made love!"

Frank circled his arms around Nancy's shoulders as they jumped together, eyes focused only on each other as they kept the beat for the final chorus. Neither of them noticed when Blaze frowned briefly, debating with herself, and then moved further into the dance floor to focus on someone else.

"Cotton-Eyed Joe" came on then, and a couple of ladies began teaching the group a semi-complicated line dance. Nancy tugged Frank a few steps toward his brother, making sure that Frank was firmly stationed between herself and Joe.

"Jealous _and_ possessive?" Frank breathed into her ear, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Can't leave you alone for one _second_ ," Nancy retorted.

A half hour later the announcement was made that dinner was served. The couples behind the screen emerged and headed toward the buffet line, letting their hunger override other bodily desires. The dance floor cleared, quieting enough for Frank to hear the ding of a received text.

They had already failed at sending the fifteen-minute check-ins to their boss. Frank sent a very un-detailed reply to Haniel, putting his phone back in his pocket without waiting for the scold. Soon Joe sat at a table that contained both Pasha and Ana.

Frank sent up a quick prayer of thanks that Ana and Pasha had decided to sit together and that there had been a chair available for Joe to join them.

He turned toward Nancy. "It's Saturday night, correct?"

She gave him a look.

"So this is a Saturday night dance party?"

"Cut to the punchline, Hardy," Nancy said.

Frank nodded toward the screens. "I'm thinking this has got to count as our official second date."

Nancy met his eyes with a thoughtful look. She checked her watch. Her face was flushed from exercise—and also, Frank thought, from the under-three-hours countdown before they might nab their culprits. And hopefully he had something to do with her next decision, too.

Nancy took Frank's hand. They managed to walk at a normal pace, as nonchalantly as possible, until they fell into each other's arms behind the screen. Second base was immediately achieved by both, extensively and meticulously and inching ever closer toward third base territory, until the first diners began to finish up and awkwardly attempted to share space behind the screen.

"We've got to relieve Joe anyway," Nancy panted.

Frank followed Nancy, stumbling out and toward the nearest chair. He sent a text to Haniel.

Joe let loose with his favorite expletive as he approached their table, smoothing first Nancy's hair, then Frank's shirt. "Could you two be any more _obvious_?"

"I don't think anyone here has any room to judge, Joe," Frank said dryly. His hands suddenly felt clammy for another reason; it was almost time to finish this.

"You are both very welcome that I spent the last hour sweet-talking another man. Pasha usually refuses to do scenes with men in the room, but he grudgingly agreed to join us and Ana when I offered him some time with your wife."

"I'm going to beat that ass," Frank said.

"You will not, unless he literally asks for it, which he will not. And then he said that since there will be three men there, he wanted more women than men…so he invited Blaze and one of her friends…" Joe sighed. "We've got to be careful, guys. Remember our plan—it's still in effect, but now there will be civilians in the room. We're going up at 11:15."

"This is going to be the longest hour of our lives," Nancy said.

And it was. Frank forced himself to keep dancing, but his excitement was turning into stomach butterflies.

Haniel sent another impatient text asking if all was well. Joe took Ana to the photo booth, where the photographer carefully positioned Ana over a bale of hay, holding a sign that said "In The Woodshed." Joe appeared appropriately stern, posing in the upswing position with a riding crop. Joe forwarded the photo to Haniel in response.

Suddenly Frank found himself surrounded by everyone participating in the playdate. He joined them in mass migration to Ana's hotel room. After an evening of tense waiting, the transition was short and abrupt. Pocketbooks, phones, and odds and ends were left in a pile near the hotel room door.

Ana clapped her hands. The clear focus had returned to her eyes, the methodical, disconcerting edge in her eyes that must have made her very good at what she did. "More people in this room than I'd originally planned on," she said, shooting Joe a look of annoyance. The room was almost crowded; Joe, Frank, and Pasha were the men present, and Nancy, Blaze, Blaze's friend Ebony, and Ana were the women present. "What scene are we doing? Who is first? What is the safe word?"

"Red for stop, yellow for lighten up, green for harder," Blaze said without skipping a beat. Her eyes didn't leave Frank's face.

"I admit, I've always wanted to try my hand at the role of female Top," Nancy said. Her eyes didn't leave Blaze's face.

Ebony spoke up. "The Bottoms are the secretaries of the Tops. If they have not completed their duties up to standard, they will have to be punished."

"Fine," Ana said. She obviously didn't care, as long as the spanking got underway. "Bottoms in the bathroom, other Tops out here with me. Bottoms will report to the Tops on their duties." She all but pushed Joe into the bathroom, motioning for Frank to follow him.

That left Ana, Pasha, and Nancy as tops. The four Bottoms emerged a moment later. Not one smirk, not one smile. Frank couldn't believe how easily and seamlessly each person had assumed their role. He silently lined up on the wall between Joe and Blaze.

Ana walked toward Joe, entirely focused on him. "I thought I asked you to dust in here?" She dragged her index finger along the entire edge of the spotlessly clean nightstand, stopped so close to Joe that a piece of paper wouldn't have fit between them, and put the tip of her finger into his mouth. "Does that taste clean to you, boy?"

"No, ma'am." Joe was fixed on Ana, the chemistry still palpable between them, but there was a hardness in his expression that only Frank could decipher.

"Over the bed." Ana turned to Frank. "And you. Did you, um…do that important thing that I told you to do…"

"Mail that essential package?" Frank prompted. "No, darn it, I forgot."

"Assume the position next to him." Ana nodded curtly toward Pasha; she had zero interest in the girls, and Pasha and Nancy began their own interrogation of Blaze and Ebony.

For the third time that weekend, Frank bent over next to his brother, hands on the bed. Ana used mild pressure to push Frank's hips, moving him over so that he and Joe were almost touching. A huge headboard was at the top of the bed, a universal standard in this hotel, seven wooden spokes within a study rectangular frame.

Soon Blaze and Ebony had bent over the opposite side of the bed, their heads alternating in the middle of the bed between Frank and Joe's. Frank was briefly reminded of the grandparents' sleeping arrangements in the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie.

Frank quickly learned how easy Ana had gone on them the day before at the spanking circus. This was only Frank's third paddling of the weekend, and he was already in significant pain; he dreaded to imagine what Joe was experiencing right now.

An especially loud thud echoed off the walls, and Blaze's giggling gasps turned into a yell of distress. "Red, red! Stop!" Blaze shouted. She stood up and whirled to face Nancy, livid. "That stroke hit my _thigh_!"

"And you hit on my _man_ all weekend!" Nancy snapped back.

"You're lucky I don't report you. He's all yours. Come on, girl." Blaze held out her hand, and Ebony took it and skipped with her toward the door. They grabbed their purses, Blaze slamming the door on her way out.

Frank's only thought was _good_. No more innocent civilians in the room.

Pasha narrowed his eyes at Nancy. Frank realized, feeling sick, that Pasha had been impressed by what Nancy had done. "Oh, no, it looks like we've run out of Bottoms for me," Pasha said.

 _An appropriate word choice,_ Frank thought. Nancy hinged at the waist, her head now between Frank and Joe's. This was the first time the three detectives had submitted to criminals without giving more than they got.

Frank heard a zipping sound, and he felt Joe flinch beside him. Ana had used the brief pause to change implements, and Frank soon heard, then felt a thin switch that almost made his knees buckle. The thud of the paddle had turned into a searing sting, and every instinct screamed at him to get out of the way of its line of fire. He hoped against hope that Pasha was going easy on Nancy.

Frank tilted his head to steal a glance at Joe.

Silent tears streaked down Joe's face. The noises that he'd previously been making for Ana's benefit were now quite real.

Frank couldn't restrain himself this time. He covered his brother's hand with his own. Joe didn't acknowledge and probably wasn't capable of it. Frank felt Nancy cover their hands with both of hers.

Frank heard the faint ding of a text. "Yellow," he said, looking down at the bed. "Slow down, pause, whatever. That might be my grandmother."

He looked up to observe that Ana and Pasha were quite bored with this announcement. He slipped off the bed and hobbled over to the corner, his circulation returning painfully.

It was Haniel. The operation on the Atlantic had been successfully intercepted. It was over.

Almost over.

Frank sighed and swore softly. The signal to Joe and Nancy that it was time to wrap things up.

He took his place beside Joe for one final minute of searing, blinding agony. Just so their next actions wouldn't be predictable.

"Red," Joe gasped. Frank wondered if Joe would have used the safe word anyway. Joe didn't look like he'd been capable of enduring much more. Joe collapsed on the bed; Frank had to help him lean back and stand up.

"Look at our name tags," Joe said. He used his palm to wipe his face. "We are all Switches. Let's switch then." He turned toward Ana. "Time to take it as good as you can give it, baby."

Ana looked less than impressed, and Pasha actually guffawed. "New boy wants a _break_ ," Pasha said.

"A small reprieve, if you're so merciful." Joe stepped toward Ana, somehow, even under these circumstances, putting her under his spell. "Just with my hand, sweetheart. You've been a naughty, naughty girl."

Ana narrowed her eyes at him. Again, this moment was crucial.

"Three minutes," she decided. She bent over.

Nancy rolled over in one fluid motion. "I'd really like to give you a few smacks, too, hun."

"Ok." Pasha hadn't needed any convincing at all.

Pasha leaned over the other side of the bed, needing a moment to get adjusted. He and Ana were not used to assuming the role of Bottoms.

That was just the moment that Frank needed to move to the corner of the room and slip the two pairs of handcuffs from Nancy's purse.

He approached the bed and put one set in Joe's pocket. He moved to Nancy's side of the bed behind Pasha.

The three detectives looked at each other. Frank nodded.

Nancy quickly closed one cuff around Pasha's right wrist while Frank closed the other cuff around a spoke of the sturdy headboard. One hand would have to do; Nancy and Frank retreated to the other side of the room and out of the big man's way while they still had the element of surprise.

At the same time, Joe cinched the handcuffs around Ana's left wrist, pulling her slightly by the arm to reach another headboard spoke. He gave her a final, hearty spank before he moved to stand beside Nancy and Frank.

As if on cue, Ana and Pasha began yelling and cursing in Russian, pulling on their handcuffs to see if they were truly restrained. They were.

A knock came on the door, and Joe opened it. Four police officers rushed into the room. "You are under—what…what is this?" The lead officer's aggressive entrance turned to uncertainty.

Joe moved closer to Ana until he was just out of the reach of her angry swing. "How about we change our party game to 'Cops and Smugglers?'"


	12. Chapter 12

"Well, that's wonderful news about the case getting solved last night," Fenton said approvingly. "And you three only needed what, twenty-four hours to crack the case? You guys keep getting better."

"Thanks, Dad," Frank said gratefully. He refused to admit even to himself how much he valued his father's praise.

Nancy had to put her head almost on Frank's shoulder to make sure she was seen in the tiny Facetime camera screen. "Since Frank still has several days of spring break, Haniel is keeping us on locally to catch the corrupt Coast Guard official," she said. "He's working on IDs for us right now. We still don't know anything about Pasha's terrorist organization, but other agents are assigned to follow up. Joe has decided not to stay on with us."

"And the fact that Ana probably had no idea what Pasha's plan for the uranium was, and didn't care. Money only, a total lack of concern for the human race." Fenton sighed wearily. "But now they can at least get a warrant of information on that no-name Swiss account that they've thought was Ana's for the past year. Haniel and I will be working on our end to send the account number to the Treasury and issue a Suspicious Activity Report to make this a priority. By the way, it must have been crazy for you three to try to integrate into that Anime convention weekend. Haniel told me all about your undercover assignment."

 _No, he didn't,_ Frank thought. "Yeah, the Anime events were wild, Dad."

Laura's smile had faded a bit. "I know I should be glad that you're in high demand. I know by now to always expect plans to change, but I'd been looking forward to seeing you this week, Frank. Maybe if you crack the case earlier than expected, you two can drive up here for a day or two before school starts again?"

Nancy's eyes darted toward Frank. Frank gave a thumbs-up. "We'd love to, Laura," Nancy said. She smiled, obviously pleased by Laura's invitation.

Fenton cleared his throat. "So…that's it, then? I'm happy for you, Frank, don't misunderstand me, but I guess I need a little more time than your mother to adjust to this marriage announcement."

Laura raised an eyebrow. Her expression at the news a few minutes ago had been joy without a trace of surprise. "Honestly, Fenton, and you've been a detective for _how_ many years? The clues were right in front of us since the day they met."

Frank and Nancy laughed shyly at that, glancing at each other. He put an arm around her shoulder.

"Who got married?" Aunt Gertrude's screech preceded her. A moment later her nose had crowded out Frank's parents in the Facetime screen.

"Nancy and I did, Aunt Gertrude," Frank said. "Two years ago."

"We're, uhhh…it wasn't exactly successful back then…but we're going to take it slower this time, date properly, but with the goal of reuniting," Nancy explained awkwardly.

Aunt Gertrude's face receded until the screen showed her sitting between Frank's parents. "Oh, certainly, this makes perfect sense. You already swore before God and man that you would spend your lives together, so now you are taking your time to decide if you really meant it. Will you be waiting to consummate the marriage until you've made your final decision?"

Fenton sighed long and deeply, his head slowly dropping into his hands. It was a movement that he'd made at least daily since allowing his sister to move in with his family.

Frank mouth quivered in his attempt to hide a smile. He put a warning hand on Nancy's thigh. There was no acceptable answer to Aunt Gertrude's tirades once she got started.

"I would ask why Joe isn't with you during this years-delayed elopement announcement, but, as it is nearly ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, he obviously must be attending Mass," mused Aunt Gertrude. "The question is why _you_ two are not at Mass. What are those nametags you're both wearing…does that say Switch?"

All eyes were on Frank. He'd never been good at lying under pressure. "Um, they messed up our dry cleaning," he mumbled.

"That red checkered shirt your mother gave you has to be dry cleaned? As well as that skimpy black halter top, Mrs. Nancy Hardy? I'm amazed that a casino/hotel of such high esteem can't tell the difference between men's clothing and women's clothing. I'm seeing a dress hanging up in the background, so, Frank, you are either in Nancy's room right now or she slept over in your room."

Laura interrupted. "Gertrude, Frank and Nancy have to go soon. They've been up half the night getting questioned at the police station, and they need to check out of their _rooms_ "—she emphasized the plural—"and plan their third date."

Aunt Gertrude again fixed a steely gaze on Frank. "I will assume that you spent the other half of the night sleeping. And why are you keeping track of the numbers of your dates? Does something different happen on a third date that doesn't happen on a second date?"

Fenton sat up straight and slapped his hands on the table. "Trudy, _please_ ," he growled.

"We need to get to Mass ourselves, Getrude," Laura interjected. She leaned toward the camera once more, her finger hovering over the "end call" button. "Call us again soon, please? And, really— _congratulations_."

"Yes, congratulations," Fenton echoed as they all finished their goodbyes.

Nancy turned toward Frank after the call was disconnected. "O. M. G."

"She's a bit too smart and unfiltered for her own good," Frank said with a trace of fondness. "You'll have to forgive her, she's all bark and no bite. And her entire goal in life is to annoy my dad. The two of them are forever stuck in middle school mode."

There was a knock, and Nancy walked to the door and opened it. Headmaster Cane stepped inside, appearing flustered and apologetic.

"I heard rumors that there were officers on this hallway last night, and then I heard more rumors that two of our partygoers were arrested," he said. "I came up here right away, but the three of you had already left. I wasn't sure if you would be here this morning. I'm not going to ask for any details. My concern is that this lifestyle is already so misunderstood. Will there be media coverage of what happened last night?"

Frank and Nancy looked at each other hesitatingly. They hadn't given that a thought. "I don't think so, not yet anyway," Nancy said slowly. "Two partiers arrested at a casino? Nothing unusual there. I think the focus will be more on their crime then on…the state they were in when they were arrested."

"Headmaster—" Frank began.

He held up a hand. "Call me Tom."

Frank couldn't do it; he would always think of this man as a headmaster. "I realize that this is not how you wanted this weekend to go, but this situation couldn't have reached a resolution any other way," Frank explained. "A lot of good has happened as a result of this, though, so we thank you for understanding."

Tom took another step toward them. "I'll trust you on that, and I'll hope that you're right and Barely Spanking can stay under the radar. And I hope…I _sincerely_ hope…that you three did not have to do anything that you are uncomfortable with doing this weekend. It is our most important, most fundamental value that each person's boundaries are respected."

"I was comfortable with everything," Nancy said immediately. "We were in some pain for a few minutes last night, but I didn't feel violated by it, and I woke up this morning feeling fine. Well…just a little bit sore."

"My brother had a blast, trust me on that," Frank reassured him.

Nancy and Tom looked at him expectantly.

Frank hesitated, thinking. "I've learned things about myself this weekend," he decided. "I regret nothing, and I'm very glad I came. I arrived with all kinds of preconceived notions, all of which were wrong…this is a good group of people that likes to have fun and are genuinely friends. And the best part is that I got to experience everything with Nancy, and it took our level of trust and intimacy to a new level."

Nancy grinned up at him. She put a hand on his arm.

Tom visibly relaxed. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," he said. "You're not undercover any longer, so there is absolutely no obligation to participate in this final event. The Judge has summoned you, Frank, and there are two Sentinels in the hallway waiting to present you for trial. Say the word and I will discreetly send them away."

Frank frowned.

"Court is their closing ceremony," Nancy explained to him. "Partygoers accuse other partygoers of various offenses committed throughout the weekend, and the judge decides the punishment. Someone must have filed an accusation against you. But the headmaster is right, Frank. Our roles are over. You've already participated a lot this weekend. We could go out to breakfast instead, our third date."

But Frank had noticed the brief second that Nancy hadn't been able to hide her gleam of excitement.

And …he was surprised to find a strong streak of anticipation within himself as well. "We will definitely be going on that third date later today," Frank said to Nancy. "But as for now, my honor has been tarnished. I must defend myself in court."

Tom opened the hotel room door and gestured outside. "You can refuse the punishment while in court, too, Frank. Your level of involvement is always your choice."

Blaze and Ebony were waiting in the hallway. Without a word, smile, or eye contact, they solemnly took Frank into custody, each grasping an elbow firmly and walking him to the elevator. Nancy and the headmaster had to rush to join them inside before the doors closed. The five remained silent, keeping the mood, until the doors dinged open and they emerged on the penthouse floor. The large double doors to the penthouse bar were closed.

"Sorry, but we need to break character for a second," Nancy said as they approached the doors. "Blaze, I'm so sorry for striking you like that last night. I was trying to—"

"Silence," Blaze ordered. She crouched to take three items out of a box of supplies to the right of the double doors. Standing, she placed a black-and-white prisoner's hat on Frank's head, handcuffed his hands together in front of him, and tied a black ball attached to a rope around his left ankle.

Blaze put her hand on the door handle but turned to Nancy. " _Your_ criminal record has been expunged," she said. "The Judge has already explained the general circumstances to me."

Frank realized who the Judge was a fraction of a second before Blaze pulled open the door.

"The prisoner may approach the bench," Joe called from the opposite side of the room. He sat on a colossal plush chair, a curly white wig and the cardboard Burger King crown on his head. A gavel stuck out of the sleeves of what appeared to be a variety of bathrobes, combining to form a Creepy Coat of Many Colors that completely covered his hands. Joe was lifted unnaturally high on a large pile of plain white hotel room pillows.

Frank glanced at his surroundings. About twenty partygoers were gathered along the edge of the room and observing with mild to moderate interest, a small group compared to most of the other events. The men looked decidedly disappointed by the gender of this newest prisoner, and turned to say their goodbyes to Headmaster Cane as he approached them. Halfway between Frank and Joe was a long, heavy wooden table with implements on it.

Frank obeyed, never taking his eyes off Joe as he approached the bench. Blaze and Ebony kept their firm grips on Frank's arms, continuing their roles as court assistants. He was forced to walk slowly so as not to trip on his ball and chain. Frank stopped in front of the table, handcuffed wrists hanging together in front of him. He could now see that the implements on the table were evenly spaced and labeled: the Singapore Cane, Reformatory Strap, Classic Punishment Cane, Scottish Tawse, Razor Strop and Drilled Maple Paddle.

A scroll emerged from the other sleeve of the Judge's bathrobes, and Joe fought to free his hands and unroll it. "Mr. Frank Warmbottom," Joe began. "You have been accused by your roommate of tarnishing the honor of the woman standing directly behind you. Your roommate states that you did not return to your hotel room last night."

"I demand a review of the evidence, Your Honor," Frank said. "And I'm glad to see that your workplace is providing those pillows as a reasonable accommodation from your injuries on the job yesterday."

"Contempt of court!" Joe signaled to Ebony, who selected the Drilled Maple Paddle and gave Frank a harsh swing.

Frank took half a step forward to keep his balance. The swat had hurt for a moment, but the afterburn was more pleasant than unpleasant.

"But thank you for your concern. My two Sentinels have administered salve, so I'm feeling much better this morning," Joe said. "And the evidence is simply this. Exhibit A: You and the woman behind you are still wearing the exact same clothes that you had on last night."

"I concur," said Sister Pats from the sidelines.

"Also, your roommate observed you enter her quarters last night, which is also where you were summoned from this morning," Joe continued. "But the most damning evidence is your roommate's testimony that you appear happier now than any time in the past two years. Do you deny it, Mr. Warmbottom? Did you defile this woman's honor last night?"

Frank turned around and met Nancy's gaze. The questioning at the police station had taken three hours, until finally the official questioning them had begun to fall asleep at 2:45 a.m. Frank had gotten off the elevator at the sixth floor with Nancy without a word, leaving Joe open-mouthed as the elevator door closed on him alone. He and Nancy had barely had the strength to kick off their shoes before collapsing under the sheets in her bed. Nancy gave him a quick peck on the lips before rolling over. Frank had spooned her from behind, his arms wrapped around her tightly as they fell asleep within minutes. He'd woken up shivering and cramped this morning. Nancy had stolen the covers sometime in the night, rolling over so many times that Frank was left with only a tiny sliver of the mattress.

"Last night was incredible," Frank said. "That is how I want to go to sleep and wake up every day for the rest of my life."

Nancy's face relaxed into a gentle smile, a knowing glance meant only for him. A tentative look of love.

"Then I have no choice but to find the defendant guilty," Judge Joseph declared. "Since you have taken this woman's honor, you will receive your punishment by her hand. Firmly, too, ma'am, it's not supposed to tickle. By the way, I am going to enjoy this, as this punishment is also for pantsing me in gym class in seventh grade and I have been waiting ten long years for proper justice to be served. Punishment shall not exceed eight strokes with the tawse."

It was exactly the punishment that Frank had given Nancy in school the day before.

Frank thought, and not for the first time, how wise and caring Joe could be when the situation called for it.

Nancy approached Frank then, speaking in a low voice meant for his ears alone. "You do not have to do this," she said, her eyes searching Frank's. "You don't need redemption. Don't you see? This isn't my first spanking weekend. I knew yesterday that I could have stopped that schoolgirl punishment at any time and not blown our undercover role. I went through with it yesterday because I wanted to experience it with _you_."

Frank's gaze softened. She had willingly made herself vulnerable to him yesterday, and he very much wanted to make himself vulnerable to her today. "Then I am going through with this because I want to experience _everything_ life offers with you," he said. "Top, Bottom, Side, Inside, and Out. And because I once again trust you with my body. And my heart."

Nancy put her hands on either side of his face. She searched his eyes for one final moment, and then kissed him briefly but thoroughly.

She walked to the table and picked up the tawse. Frank followed her and bent over the table at the waist, his handcuffs clanking as they made contact with the wood. No, this wasn't going to tickle.

And that was okay.

The sound of the tawse whistled through the air.

 _~Finis~_

 _A/N: Will Frank and Nancy adopt the lifestyle? It's up to the reader's interpretation! Joe has already bought tickets to next year's convention._

 _A sincere, heartfelt, flattered "thank you" for every review that this story has received. Thanks for sticking with this story even when it got uncomfortable, and thanks for reading it in the spirit that it was intended. Whenever I think of focusing on other fandoms I end up sticking with this one because the community is so, so supportive. Each and every review makes a huge difference! You guys make this fun._


End file.
